


The List (Timestamps for Tricking Myself Nice)

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Two Ways to Skin Tonight [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bondage, Caning, Chains, Choking, Control, Cuddling, Delayed Orgasm, Denied orgasm, Established Relationship, Humiliation, Intimacy, Kink, M/M, Negotiated kink, Otk spanking, Plugs, Power Play, Predicament Bondage, Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Teasing, Temperature Play, Toys, bastinado, bdsm play, foot whipping, safe sane consensual, timestamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: Will raised an eyebrow. “Violent sexual encounters sound relaxing to you?”“Yes,” Hannibal said with a soft smile. Will’s remarks tended to grow sharper edges when he was nervous, and Hannibal found the insight into Will’s mood more endearing than anything else. “And I believe you will find it relaxing as well. As I recall, you had no complaints the other night.”Continues directly on from the end ofTricking Myself Nice, for context.





	1. Spanking

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tricking Myself Nice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581514) by [stratumgermanitivum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum), [whiskeyandspite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite). 

> The Timestamps for the [Tricking Myself Nice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581514) series. Ongoing and updating without relation to the ongoing canon component. It does help to read the [original fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581514), however.
> 
> Chapter titles will be the kinks explored within!

The world seemed to have tilted ever so slightly sideways. Whereas before, Will had felt that he and Hannibal were on fairly equal footing, now he felt adrift. He was about to jump headfirst into the deep end of an experience he knew nothing about, as evidenced by his slowly horrified reaction to some of the things on Hannibal’s list. 

Some of them, though… Some of them had crawled deep inside Will’s head and wouldn’t leave. Some of them had twisted and writhed their way through his dreams, until he woke gasping and slick with sweat. 

He would probably try everything, eventually, even the things that scared him. Otherwise, Hannibal very definitely outpaced him, and Will couldn’t stand the thought of that. 

Will had packed himself an overnight bag. The dogs were taken care of. All that he had to do now was stop standing dumbly on the front stoop and knock. His palms felt slick with sweat. He hadn’t been this nervous in _years._

He had to laugh, and did, quietly. What was he so scared of? So some guy wanted to slap his ass while he fucked him, so what? It would be better than boring unemotional sex that Will had endured a fair amount of with one night stands.

Fuck it.

He stepped closer and rapped his knuckles against the door, a tuneless stutter of noise.

He didn't wait long.

"Hello, Will."

Hannibal was as impeccable as he always was, somehow managing to coordinate utterly garish patterns and tame ridiculous colors to his will. 

Will immediately felt that rush of pleasure that came with seeing him, and his smile now came unbidden.

"Evening."

He stepped nearer and then the nervousness hit again. Did he kiss him? Was that what he did now? Were they back to square one with this new game they'd started?

Hannibal answered that for him, leaning in to set his knuckles beneath Will's chin before kissing him softly, the way he'd kissed Will when they'd woken up together. Will shivered, stepped closer, and laughed when Hannibal pulled away to nuzzle him instead.

"Dinner," Hannibal murmured, amused. "I've prepared dinner for us, first."

Whatever nervous energy had surrounded Will upon arrival now fled, the tension leaving his shoulders in a slow roll. “Are we actually going to eat it this time?” He joked.

“We are,” Hannibal told him with a soft smile. He took Will’s coat for him and hung it, then reached for his bag. “If you would like to wait in the dining room, I’ll take this upstairs for you.” 

To Hannibal’s surprise, Will did not immediately hand over the bag. He clutched it just a little bit tighter, knuckles white on the straps. His face had acquired that slight flush that Hannibal already loved, the faintest traces of embarrassment, or perhaps arousal. They both twined together so beautifully in Will.

“I kind of… brought something for you,” Will mumbled. “You know, showing my support for your interests?” From the bag, he fetched a pair of metal handcuffs, his blush strengthening as he continued to ramble. “They’re from when I was an officer in New Orleans. I had a bunch of stuff I was supposed to return, and these were skipped over in the hassle.”

Hannibal had to admit that he was entirely charmed. Though the metal would cause far more harm than pleasure until Will learned not to squirm in restraints, the thought behind it was entirely endearing.

Hannibal stepped closer again and slipped a finger into the cuffs to take them from Will's fidgeting hands.

"Clever boy," he breathed, turning another possessive nuzzle against Will's hair. "Thank you."

Will's blush didn't ebb, it miraculously got deeper. He shrugged, shook his head, shrugged again, and though Hannibal was tempted to continue to let him squirm where he stood he took pity. For now.

"Dining room," he reminded Will. "Please pour us some wine, take a seat. I will return presently."

From anyone else, it would have been a polite request. From Hannibal, it was quite clearly a demand, one that sent a shiver down his spine. Will had never handled demanding people very well, but in this moment, it was a relief to have the instruction. He could slip away into the dining room, where the wine was already set in a decanter to breathe, the table as impeccably set as it had been the last time. 

Hannibal had already set the tone for the night, in his praise and his orders. Will had known what he was getting into, this time, sort of, but it was different to have it laid out in front of him like this. He poured the wine with slightly trembling hands, generous with both glasses. Will could use a little alcohol to relax.

Taking his seat, Will took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths. He wanted to reach back in time and pluck himself right out of their mockery of therapy sessions. His confidence had been unwavering at the time, and he himself had been unflappable. Now, he felt twitchy and uncertain. He took a sip of wine, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and was the very picture of poise and inner peace when Hannibal joined him with dinner on a cart. 

Something fancy, something exquisitely arranged that smelled divine. Will picked up that it was beef, today, and took his time with the meal when Hannibal joined him at the table. They didn't speak much, beyond Will praising the food and Hannibal thanking him, yet it didn't feel forced. It was a way to ground them both, Will realized, with something mundane, something they had - at least in part - done together before.

By the time dessert arrived - Will could equate it only to a miniature ice sculpture - Will felt more comfortable. He felt the beginnings of that smirk that had pulled Hannibal's eyes to him so often in the office. He sat more languidly, no longer held himself like a soldier at attention. When Hannibal looked at him, Will's eyes narrowed in pleasure.

"Busy day?" He asked.

"One filled with intense emotional labor," Hannibal replied, pleased to see Will relax into this. He watched as he cleared his plate, still polite, still careful in his motions. "I'm rather looking forward to a relaxing evening with you."

Will raised an eyebrow. “Violent sexual encounters sound relaxing to you?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said with a soft smile. Will’s remarks tended to grow sharper edges when he was nervous, and Hannibal found the insight into Will’s mood more endearing than anything else. “And I believe you will find it relaxing as well. As I recall, you had no complaints the other night.”

He caught a glimpse of a blush on Will’s face as he brought the dishes to the sink to soak. It had vanished by the time Hannibal returned, replaced by an intensely serious expression, more akin than a man going to war than one who was about to engage in sex.

The other night had indeed been relaxing for Will. He’d slept better than he ever did, and he had some hopes that he would do so again. Still, his nerves wouldn’t die down, though excitement had also crept in. 

Will stood when Hannibal returned, reaching for him with a confidence that was not entirely faked. He wrapped his fingers around one of Hannibal’s wrists, looking up at him with a coy smile. “We made it through a meal this time,” he teased.

"We did," Hannibal agreed, amused. There was warmth between them, still, and it pleased him. Nerves were expected, welcome, even, but it was truly a relief for Hannibal that Will hadn't tried to become something else for this. "You will need the energy."

"I can't say no to more marathon sex," Will grinned.

Hannibal's amusement was palpable. He turned his wrist just enough to take Will's and and bring his knuckles to his lips, delighting in the blush the motion elicited.

"You wouldn't if you wanted to," Hannibal promised, enough threat there to send that lovely shiver through Will again. "But tonight, I think, I'm going to spank you."

The word alone was enough to bring a sound up from Will's throat he couldn't control. It sounded so… bad porn. So awkward. And yet he felt himself press closer to Hannibal despite, allowing his heart to hammer in his chest and his face to heat with the mental images the word immediately conjured up.

This was one of the things Will had been very interested in trying from the list.

"Over your knee like a bad boy?" Will offered, relieved when Hannibal's smile was just as amused.

"I should have you count them for me," Hannibal added. "Some other implements too, perhaps, besides my hand, if you've the stamina."

It was a strange kind of feeling that went through Will. Sort of like being sixteen and doing something that you knew your parents would disapprove of, but you were too young and excited to care. 

“I can take whatever you give me,” Will swore. It was just a little pain, after all, and it was meant to be arousing. Will had been stabbed before, he could handle a little sadomasochism. 

Hannibal cupped Will’s face in his hands, pressing a barely-there kiss against his lips. “You make me so many promises,” he said, amused, “I’m interested to see how many you can keep.”

“All of them,” Will said, because his bravado would not allow him to give in to shy embarrassment. Hannibal’s smile grew wider, sharp-toothed and sending a shock of intimidation through Will. He was, for a moment, prey, and the predator had already caught him. 

“Brave boy,” Hannibal said, with a tone that made Will feel as if he was being teased, somehow. He released Will’s face in favor of his shoulders, turning him towards the hallway. “I believe you’ll remember the way?”

Will nodded, shook his head, snorted softly, but went. He already felt giddy, damn near wired with the anticipation. He had come to the house of his goddamn _psychiatrist_ to get spanked.

Will Graham didn't _date_ people, and he was getting himself knee deep into this. Willingly.

He took the stairs at a jog, felt more than heard Hannibal following behind. The man moved like a shadow, absolutely silent regardless of the bulk he had on Will. He was frightening in his efficiency, and Will felt arousal flirt with panic as he refused to turn around, refused to turn to salt when faced with his first challenge.

The bedroom was the same, and as before, Will felt himself relax. There was something about it that made him feel safe. Cocooned. Protected from his own stupid mind and overthinking. He could feel it quieting as he breathed.

When Hannibal touched his shoulder Will didn't flinch, he turned his cheek against his hand.

"I will need a safeword, Will, before we get started."

"I don't need one."

"You'll choose one."

“I won’t use it,” Will teased, amused. Hannibal hummed, squeezing his shoulder a little harder before releasing it.

“You’ll choose one.”

Will snorted again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He considered choosing something inappropriate. Something immature, just because. But in the end, when Hannibal gently turned Will to face him again, he said only:

"Chesapeake."

Hannibal had a lifetime of practice in controlling his responses. His face did not twitch, his hands did not clench. There was a moment, a single moment, where he thought it a dig at himself. Thought, perhaps, Will had intended to goad him into a confession.

But he remembered Will’s job, and the reason they had met, and the moment passed. Just a split second of indecision, and then Hannibal returned to himself. 

“Good boy,” He praised, his voice soft. A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Will’s mouth, and Hannibal had no doubt that it would be radiant when he learned to properly accept praise. 

“I’m not going to need it,” Will repeated, stubborn as ever.

“But you’ll have one, nonetheless. Now, this will work much better with you out of these clothes.” Hannibal tugged pointedly at the hem of Will’s shirt, and Will grinned.

“What about you?”

Hannibal seated himself at the edge of the bed, leaning back to take in all of Will. “Not just yet,” He said softly. 

Will considered him, amused. He had no intention of disobeying, this was hardly asking the world of him. But he felt that pleasurable tickle of power under his skin, the same thing that had drawn his chin up in pride when he’d tempted Hannibal across the space between their chairs in his office.

He took a step back, tilted his hip to be opposite Hannibal where he sat, and brought up a hand to work free the top button of his shirt.

“Usually, someone else gets me out of these,” Will said, brow up as he continued to bare himself, slow and deliberate, obedient but in his own time and at his own pace.

“You were very willing to do it for me last time,” Hannibal pointed out, moving to cross his ankles deliberately, legs stretched out towards Will. His posture suggested nothing but relaxation, shoulders back and hands behind him on the bed for balance. His eyes followed the movement of Will’s fingers, remembering the way they’d felt against him, how they’d tasted that night, the next morning, their lingering warmth.

“I’m not _un_willing,” Will smiled, slipping his shirt off his shoulders and letting it hang against his wrists. For a moment he just stood, rolling his neck deliberately, allowing a hum to pass by his lips before he let the shirt drop to the floor.

“Fold it,” Hannibal murmured, eyes still on Will, lower lids raising a little in pleasure, in amusement, when Will’s immediate response was to tense, resist, even just to show that he could.

“Aren’t you spanking me anyway?” Will asked, scooping the shirt back up, “Shouldn’t I be doing something to earn it?”

“There are different kinds of pain,” Hannibal explained, “Some can be pleasurable, even if they are intense. Punishment is an entirely different experience. I assure you, Will, you’ll know if I want you to feel chastised. It’s up to you what kind of scene we have tonight.” 

Will folded the shirt, eyes on Hannibal’s face, his amused grin. He wanted to test, to put one toe on the line and then slip quietly over it, see exactly where the boundaries lay. But he also wanted to feel Hannibal’s hands on him, until he understood exactly why Hannibal liked the things he liked. 

If things went well, there would be time to push later. And Will intended to push as hard as he could.

Hannibal watched, pleased, as Will folded the rest of his clothing and set it aside on the dresser. He would have been satisfied either way; punishing a bratty sub could be a wonderful way to pass the time. But he was glad, for Will’s sake, that Will had chosen to obey. It would be a much better experience for him if Hannibal eased him into it. 

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and drew them back and Will came to him unbidden; something he realized only when he was standing in front of a fully dressed Hannibal like a student in trouble at school. He noticed,to his relief and pleasure both, that Hannibal was already semi hard from just this alone.

The vulnerability, the obedience, Will himself.

There was power in that.

Hannibal caught Will's wrist and kissed the pulse softly, a worshipful thing that seemed out of place with the way the evening was meant to go. But that alone sent shivers through Will, ones he hated that he couldn't control.

_Touch starved,_ one doctor had said.

Hannibal continued his slow exploration of Will's arm in silence, tickling his tongue in the crook of his elbow, pulling back when he reached Will's shoulder and guiding him to bend instead, kissing Will with a sigh when their lips met.

And this, too, was so welcome. Soft. Gentle. Reassuring.

Will didn't feel patronised, or exploited, or humiliated. Not until Hannibal pulled away, nuzzling Will's nose, his cheek, and murmured:

"You're going to bend over my knees for me, hands flat on the floor, and you're going to hold that position, Will. Now."

And if that didn’t immediately send blood downwards...

Bared to Hannibal, Will’s flush extended past his cheeks and down his throat, the red tinge of arousal spreading over him. Hannibal made no move to assist. Will would obey, or he wouldn’t, and either way Hannibal was going to enjoy watching every second.

No way out. Nowhere to hide. Will stepped into place, awkward and uncertain. He draped himself over Hannibal’s lap and found that he had to rise up onto his toes just a bit to press his palms to the floor. Not so high as to feel ridiculous or small, but just enough that he lost the grounding presence of the floor. Will felt unmoored and adrift, staring down at the carpet and trying to remember to breathe. 

Will had never felt more exposed than he did right then. His bare cock, half-hard already, was pressed up against Hannibal’s thigh, rubbing against expensive and perfectly tailored suit pants. He had half a mind to stand back up again and back away before he made a mess all over what was surely an expensive outfit. His thoughts were racing, whiring, too much to relax. His heart was in his throat.

And then Hannibal touched him. One hand in his hair, combing the curls back and away from his eyes, the other arm wrapping around Will’s hips and adjusting his position slightly. Hannibal held him there, safe and secure, and Will no longer felt like he was about to fall apart. 

“Very good, Will.”

Will’s exhale was sharper than he’d planned it, body poised and held and presented. Hannibal didn’t say any more, and Will didn’t push him to. He concentrated on the way Hannibal’s fingers curled against his scalp, the way his other hand warmed the skin of his thighs, moved over the curve of his ass…

“Make any sounds you want to,” Hannibal said after a while, voice soft. “Cry out, or beg if you wish. But you will stay still for me.”

Will nodded stiffly, still unsure how this would go, still not entirely convinced how this would feel good. The silence held between them a moment longer, and just as Will was about to open his mouth to ask why nothing had happened… Hannibal’s hand connected sharp against his skin.

The sound was louder, carried with it an implication of much more pain than Hannibal’s palm had caused, yet Will still shuddered forward, bent his knees on reflex. Hannibal patiently adjusted him back to how he was, reminded him to stay still, and hit him again.

If Will were honest with himself, the first few smacks were sharp but not painful, and beyond a dull ache did nothing to convince him that this wasn’t just a humiliating stereotype as he’d assumed it would be. But Hannibal didn’t relent, he didn’t say a word, he held Will gently in the position he wanted him and continued to rain down blows.

By ten - if Will had been counting - he was panting, goosebumps over his skin, adrenaline coursing cold through his entire body.

And he felt _good_.

The anticipation of the blow, the blooming heat from the impact and the deliberate stroke Hannibal’s palm pressed to him before pulling away, the shiver that ran through Will when cool air touched his skin again and the bare half-second he had to take a breath before another strike drove him breathless again.

By fifteen he was whining, needy, nails digging into the carpet, toes pushing against it to pull his muscles taut, to push up towards Hannibal’s hand, to welcome the blows that painted his skin pink.

And then the spanking stopped, and Will’s voice pulled high - embarrassingly high - in protest, before a familiar, rough hand moved to cup his cock instead.

“Good boy,” Hannibal breathed. “So good for me.”

Will’s breath caught and stuttered in his throat, a choked-off whimper. He’d been so distracted by the blissful heat that he’d forgotten arousal entirely. He was fully hard now, aching and no doubt leaking against Hannibal’s too-soft slacks. Hannibal’s hand was almost too gentle, a whisper of a touch against Will’s sensitive flesh. Turning, Will hid his face in his arm as Hannibal’s hand drew back in a slow, lingering caress, until his hand was hot against the curve of Will’s ass again.

Will had taken each blow with a steadily increasing desperation. Hannibal recognized the need and eagerness that built in him, the way he lifted himself into each blow. Will was a natural submissive, no coercion required once things began. Hannibal had suspected, of course, but there was only so much one could infer from a handful of conversations. Hannibal rubbed gently over the slightly reddened skin, tending more towards pink than the color Hannibal preferred to leave behind. 

“Can you take more for me?” Hannibal asked, drawing his nails lightly over the sensitized skin. Will shuddered beneath his touch, and then nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching in the carpet beneath him. “I need you to speak for me, Will. If you want something, you’ll ask for it.”

Will drew in a shuddering breath. Hannibal pushed him further and further into something intense and unrecognizable. He felt almost fuzzy, like the rest of the world had been wrapped in a thick layer of cotton and there was nothing else but himself and Hannibal. “Yes,” he mumbled, and then, louder: “Yes, I can take more.”

"There's my good Will."

Oh _God._

Will shuddered in pleasure so deep he felt it through to his bones. When Hannibal drew his hand back and the next blow landed on Will's thighs instead of his ass, the sound he made was damn near pornographic. He rutted forward blindly, seeking friction against Hannibal's leg, cock leaking hot against it, and found the next spank to be much sharper, truly painful, compared to the others.

"I believe," another, just as hard, "I made it clear," another, where Will's thighs curved to meet his ass, "that you," again, and Will was seeing stars, so close to orgasm he could taste it at the back of his throat, "were to _stay_," when Hannibal hit him then, he squeezed the hot flesh of his ass between his fingers, "_still_."

"Oh fuck, I'm going to come," Will sobbed, entire body shaking against Hannibal as he somehow, _miraculously_, obeyed.

He was remarkable. 

Hannibal had experience enough with sexual partners to be well aware that Will had sunk into subspace; he wasn't _here_ anymore, his body in absolute thrall of the hands against him and the words spoken to him. His mind would be white noise now, empty, humming, blissfully quiet of anything but the stark awareness of his body.

"You will not," Hannibal told him softly, relishing the full body shiver the words wracked from Will. "Not for three more. Arch your back for me,"

And Will did, god help him he did, absolutely wanton in his presentation, and uncaring for anything but the feeling of Hannibal's rumbling pleasure that seeped into his skin.

"These will hurt, Will. But you will take your punishment like a good boy."

"Yes," Will wasn't even sure it was a word anymore, he wasn't sure he could _make_ words anymore. When Hannibal drew back his hand he held his breath, and when he hit him, Will wasn't sure he'd be able to breathe again.

_I assure you, Will, you will know if I want you to feel chastised._

Will knew it. It was, in that moment, the only thing he knew. Just Hannibal, Hannibal’s hands, Hannibal’s words. The idea of _punishment_ might have made his stomach twist, but right now, all he knew was that Hannibal wanted to hurt him, and Hannibal was _going_ to hurt him, and it was going to be the single most arousing thing that had ever happened to Will.

The hand came down, pulling a startled gasp from Will’s lips. Hannibal didn’t linger to cup and caress. He pulled his hand back immediately, letting Will feel the sting with nothing to temper it. The second strike was somehow both better and worse, another layer of pain, but adding further to Will’s hazy, needy arousal. His skin felt too tight, so thoroughly heated by Hannibal’s hands. Will was more prepared for the third strike, and it drew a low moan from him, his legs trembling with the effort to hold himself still rather than rut mindlessly against Hannibal. 

“There we go,” Hannibal whispered, petting gently at Will’s lower back, “Everything is forgiven, Will. Relax for me.”

Will let the tension in his body go, until he was a limp and trembling form over Hannibal’s lap. 

“Do you still want to come?” Hannibal teased, trailing one finger over the soft skin of Will’s inner thigh.

“Uh-huh,” Will moaned in agreement.

“Do you want me to hurt you some more to get you there?”

“_Pleassse…_” It was more a hissing sound than an actual word. Will had long since lost the power of speech.

Hannibal drew his hand through Will's hair, peeling sweaty strands from his forehead and allowing Will to nuzzle into his palm for a moment.

"I'm going to help you stand," Hannibal said, "and then you'll rest over the bed for me."

Will hummed his understanding, eyes half open, body trembling beyond his control as every kind of happy hormone flooded his brain. When Hannibal shifted him, Will made a sound of protest, his body felt too heavy, like he wasn't even in it anymore, but he moved where Hannibal wanted him, sunk into the softness of the mattress with a groan.

His hands sought forward to grasp the sheets, curling them between his fingers and stretching his arms forward like a lazy cat. Vaguely, he heard Hannibal move behind him, he registered the quiet clicking of a belt buckle, the hiss of leather being drawn through belt loops, and felt his cock ache between his legs.

"You may come when you wish, Will," Hannibal told him, "don't hold back your sounds, let me hear you."

Whether Will replied or not was beyond him, and didn't matter. He floated, sore and aching and heavy, turned his head against the sheets and felt the dampness of tears against his cheek. He didn't even know he'd been crying.

The first lick of the belt felt like a brand, sharp and burning across Will's over sensitive skin and he cried out something between a whimper and a low guttural plea, hips rutting forward shamelessly against the mattress.

Nothing. Nothing had ever felt this damn good.

Another strike, another line of fire across his thighs. Will was trembling again, his whole body shaking with pain and pleasure both. He didn’t know how to describe it, and probably never would. It was just a thick wave of _feeling_, pure sensation.

Once more. Will let out a strangled plea, or at least he thought he did. He was spiralling further and further down, thrusting helplessly against cool, crisp bedding. He would have been worried about the mess he was making, were he capable of worry at all. 

Hannibal said something. Will didn’t know what it was, but he caught the general tone of approval, of praise that made him feel almost unbearably light. A fourth strike, right across where Will would feel it every time he sat, and Will was gone. He sobbed into the blankets, hands mussing the tidy cover as he clutched desperately through his peak, rolling his hips over and over again until the pulsing stopped, until he had nothing left to give. Will lost all control of his limbs, sinking heavily against the bed, stomach slipping against the cooling wet spot as he began to slide back onto his knees.

Hannibal caught him before he could go too far, hoisting him back up and laying him on his stomach on the bed. He was speaking, soft and gentle words as he rubbed his hands over the burning heat, but Will neither knew nor cared what he said. 

He closed his eyes.

"Will."

It sounded like a badly tuned radio, but Will heard it. He hummed, continued to float a moment longer, before peeling his eyes open. Hannibal knelt by him, level with his eyes, and when Will looked up at him the other smiled.

"Welcome back," he said. "I need you to drink for me. Even just a sip."

Will blinked, focused on the glass of water in Hannibal's hand, the straw that rested in it. It would be unbearably funny - Hannibal goddamn Lecter investing in bendy plastic straws - if it wasn't a godsend; Will didn't have to get up to drink.

He obediently took the straw between his lips, finding he was actually ridiculously thirsty, and sucked until the glass was empty.

"Good, Will."

Hannibal took the glass away, brought his hand to Will's hair once more to stroke it, watching Will's eyes roll closed in pleasure.

"You did so well for me. So well. How do you feel?"

“Good,” Will responded without hesitation. It took another few seconds for him to actually consider the question. “Sore,” he decided, shifting slightly on the bed. 

Hannibal could hardly blame him. Will had taken quite a few blows, and taken them beautifully. He was red across his entire backside, down to the tops of his thighs. From the looks of things, one small sliver of skin was already beginning to bruise from the belt. Will was apparently the sort to mark up easily, a thought that left Hannibal’s mind racing with the opportunities it provided. 

“You’ll be sore for a while still, but I can ease things a bit for you.” He kept a variety of creams and lotions for just such an occasion, but Will was already glaring at him in a way that would have been much more intimidating had half his face not been hidden in the comforter. 

“No,” Will said, a petulant demand. “I like it. Leave it alone.” Clearly, he was less shy in the afterglow, a fact that Hannibal would no doubt find a use for later.

Hannibal couldn't resist another smile, something warm, deeply proud, deeply pleased. When he reached out next it was to draw his thumb against Will's lips.

"Remarkable boy," was all he said. He stood, but stayed where Will could see him, taking his time to fold his own clothes as he undressed, as he'd made Will do.

He left Will's line of sight only to turn out the main bedroom light, the bedside lamp the only thing illuminating the space.

Intimate. Comfortable.

When he returned, Hannibal climbed into bed, sprawling heavy and warm over Will's back, delighting in the pained gasp he drew when he pressed to sensitive skin. He enveloped Will entirely, one arm sliding down to support Will's head as the other stroked soft against his side.

He could already feel the tremors subside within the man beneath him as Will relished the warmth, snuggled back into the possessive hold without question.

Hannibal had lain over him like this before, the first time they’d been together. It seemed like it was going to be a habit for him, and Will couldn’t complain. Despite the pain, Hannibal’s heavy weight was a reassurance, holding him in place when Will still felt like he was about to fly away. Will tilted his head until he could press a kiss against Hannibal’s arm, and let Hannibal’s heat lull him under, into sleep.


	2. Pleasure Delay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“But Hannibal,” Will said, tilting his head back to give Hannibal a look that was very nearly dangerous in its mischievous intent, “If you want something, you ask for it.”_
> 
> _The echo of Hannibal’s own words, spoken softly over Will’s trembling back then and purred against him now made the man straighten, tense pleasantly, relax again._
> 
> _“And you want me to fuck you,” Hannibal confirmed, smiling when Will grinned up at him, pressing nearer, hard, warm, so aroused, against him._
> 
> More adventures! Follows on from chapter one, but not all will be chronological. Enjoy!

Everything hurt, but conversely, Will couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so relaxed in his life.

It took a good few moments for Will to wake up properly. Hannibal lay half over him, either still asleep or contented to remain unmoving as Will gently shifted under him and winced. His legs were on fire, he could feel his pulse in his ass.

It was ridiculous how good he felt.

Will reached for Hannibal’s hand, slung loosely over him, and threaded their fingers together before curling his own arm closer, drawing his lips over Hannibal’s knuckles in a lazy kiss. And this was unusual too; Will couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted to be so affectionate with someone. He enjoyed being touched - behind closed doors and curtained windows - but he rarely sought it out himself.

He hummed when Hannibal nuzzled against his hair, let his eyes close as the warm body on top of him shifted to be the warm body behind him, drawing Will back against Hannibal’s chest, his legs supported by Hannibal’s knees.

“Sore?” He murmured, and Will could feel that smile in Hannibal’s voice. He grinned.

“Very,” Will said, pleased with himself. Hannibal ran a warm hand down Will’s chest to rest almost possessively over his stomach. Will couldn’t remember him undressing, but at some point he must have before coming to bed. He could feel every inch of Hannibal behind him. Including some areas he was suddenly realizing he’d neglected.

Slowly, Will stiffened in his arms. Hannibal frowned into his curls, now a tangled mess from the night before. He liked Will best when he was at ease with himself, allowing himself to chase after the things he wanted. Will’s occasional shy uncertainty was, of course, beautiful, but so was his determination, and Hannibal much preferred the latter. “What’s wrong, Will?”

It took a long minute for Will to say anything, and even then, he muffled his voice into the pillows. “I didn’t… take care of _you_ last night.”

Oh. Hannibal relaxed, rubbing soothing circles over Will’s stomach. This was an easy fix. “I didn’t ask you to,” He reminded Will.

“That’s not how this works!”

“Isn’t it?”

"I just -" Will swallowed, unsure how to answer. He had no idea how it worked. He had a vague idea about certain things, had his expectations not only met but exceeded by his first experience with kink, but sex was good when both partners got off, right?

"Didn't you want me to?"

"Wants and needs are different things," Hannibal replied, annoyingly pedantic. When Will still didn't ease back to the laxity he'd woken with, Hannibal sighed, explained further.

"Last night was for you. For your discovery and pleasure. You allowed me to give that to you, trusted me to keep you above water." He nuzzled against Will again, voice dropping to a low accented murmur. "You were stunning in your submission, Will. Responsive, honest, vulnerable. You have never been more beautiful."

Will battled for a moment between pleasure and absolute embarrassment. With his face still buried in the pillow, he didn’t have to choose just yet, and he let himself instead be overtaken by that hint of arousal that came when Hannibal spoke so close to him. 

This was what Hannibal had wanted, right? For Will to submit, to ‘behave,’ in a fashion. And if giving Will the best orgasm of his life and then squishing him to sleep was what Hannibal wanted, who was Will to argue?

Finally, Will relaxed back against Hannibal with a small sigh. “I don’t understand you,” he told Hannibal, but he didn’t sound entirely unhappy with the fact. No doubt, much like Hannibal himself, Will found a distinct pleasure in being confronted with a puzzle to unwravel. Hannibal chuckled, gripping Will’s chin and tilting his head back for a chaste kiss. 

“I’m not entirely sure I understand you either,” Hannibal admitted, “but things are still new. We’ll figure them out as we go along. Now, breakfast?”

Will bit his lip, letting it release slowly. He knew how much Hannibal liked to see that; he always stared when Will did it. Come to think of it, he stared whenever Will did anything even remotely sensual. It was immensely flattering to have a partner who actually _liked_ every one of Will’s attempts to entice them. 

“Not just yet?” He requested, reaching back between them to trace his palm over Hannibal’s thigh, searching inward. After all, last night was over, and there was no reason he couldn’t return the favor now that his brain was in working order again. 

Hannibal almost purred against him, the sound low and deep and welcome. Will immediately preened at that, at the fact that he had brought Hannibal to that level of laxity and horniness by just letting him close, letting him try to unravel the enigma of him.

He stroked for a few lazy moments, turning his head into the pillow to breathe the smell of Hannibal from it, pleased when rough hands moved against him, not demanding, _worshipping_. He felt worthy of the attention, then, if only for a moment. Then Will shifted forward, just far enough away to allow himself to turn over, hand still teasing Hannibal’s cock to its full delicious length.

The friction of even the softest sheets against Will’s ass drew forward a whine, damn near a whimper of pain as he moved. He bit his lip, eyes closed, feeling the synapses of his brain blow fireworks behind his eyes, his cock stirring with it. God, he was going to hurt for days. He would have to take his office hours standing up like an idiot, pretending he was looking for shit in his bookcase.

The thought made him laugh, and Will pressed that sound against Hannibal’s throat as he leaned in to kiss there.

Hannibal pulled Will close, arching his neck for him, letting his eyes close as Will’s hand continued to stroke him, as Will pressed himself feline against him. Lord he was lovely, in pain and especially in pleasure. Hannibal marvelled at how open Will was to this, how open-minded, when in truth most people would have balked at the suggestion of such a relationship after knowing someone in a seemingly professional capacity.

Well.

Normal was a spectrum.

Hannibal moved as Will pushed against him, lying on his back as Will crawled over to straddle him and take a nipple between his lips. With a groan, Hannibal relaxed to the mattress, open to Will as Will had been to him the night before. With his free hand he grasped the blankets to toss them to the empty side of the bed. If he was to be pliant this morning, he would look his fill of Will’s red ass in the air as Will sucked him down.

Will worked his way down Hannibal’s chest, trailing kisses through the thick thatch of hair, following the trail that led him further and further down. This, he was good at. This, he knew, inside and out, the way Hannibal might have known a belt or a set of cuffs. Will may not have known much about kink, but he had always known how to please a lover. He could read every twitch and jerk of a face or body. Looking up through his bangs at Hannibal, Will smirked and bit gently at his hip.

It drew a slow sigh from Hannibal, as Will had hoped it would, and then a slight arch of his back. He made no move to hurry Will along, letting him kiss and lick at whatever pace he chose.

Will was in no mood to tease, it turned out. He crouched between Hannibal’s thighs, his back arching and offering Hannibal exactly the view he’d hoped for, unbeknownst to Will himself. Will took Hannibal into his mouth in careful bobs of his head, working his way further and further down in tiny increments. 

Hannibal was careful not to thrust, letting Will adjust as he needed to, but he allowed himself one indulgence, tangling his fingers gently in Will’s hair. Will moaned at the touch, always so eager to be pet and caressed, and the vibrations sent another wave of pleasure through Hannibal. 

He allowed a low, pleased sound to leave his lips as he drew his knees up and spread them for Will to settle more comfortably between.

Hannibal had had no doubt that Will was a good lover, his confidence radiated from him when he was in his element. Will gave as good as he got, pushing and pulling and bending against whoever he was sharing himself with, and in giving himself, now, he was indulgent. Hannibal felt the flutter of his throat as Will took him deep enough to choke before he pulled back, and cursed softly.

_Remarkable boy._

Will cared little for being tidy. His lips were flush and cheeks hot and chin wet with spit before he leaned in again. He turned his head like a cat into Hannibal’s fingers as he scratched his scalp and gently - so gently - tugged Will’s hair. Even without doing anything he was appreciating Will, adoring him, rather than just tolerating him, rather than just using him.

When Will took him deep this time, he dropped a hand down to grasp Hannibal’s balls, rolling the silky skin between his fingers as he buried his nose in the rough wiry hair at the base of his cock and moaned.

Hannibal mimicked the sound, his hand tightening momentarily in Will’s hair, a sharp tug that made Will whine, or try to, the sound stifled by the clutch of his throat around Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal released him hastily. This, as last night, was meant to be for Will. There would be plenty of time to guide him later. 

Will had to pull back, momentarily choked by his own noises, but even then he didn’t stop. He focused his attention on the sensitive head, gently pulling back the foreskin to lave little kitten licks over the tip. He looked up at Hannibal, somehow managing to pull off a smirk even now, and then grabbed Hannibal’s hand and dragged it back into his hair. Will’s hand tightened once before releasing him, swallowing Hannibal down once more. The message was clear: the whine had not been a complaint. 

Will had not been entirely missionary-vanilla-lights-off before meeting Hannibal. He liked when lovers told him what felt good. He _loved_ to have his hair pulled. Both at the same time were practically heaven. Will slipped further down onto the bed, enough so that he could rut against the sheets even as he struggled to open his throat again, following the guidance of Hannibal’s sure hand in his hair. 

And though Hannibal listened, gripped Will’s hair in a fist, tugged it and turned him, he did not hurt him. Not today. Not until they’d discussed and planned this. But he allowed himself to sink entirely into the moment, into the sensations around him as Will’s mouth brought him closer and closer to climax.

He had not, the night before, relieved himself even after Will had fallen asleep beneath him. He had gotten up, wiped them both down with a cool wet cloth so the morning would not be unpleasant, and then he had pressed against Will and slept. Pleasure was something Hannibal enjoyed controlling, in others and in himself. The patience needed, the endurance, the relief after…

He murmured Will’s name as the other pulled back again, slurping his bottom lip obscenely into his mouth as he ficked a mischievous glance to Hannibal before bending to torment the head of his cock once more.

He was perfect.

Beautiful bratty thing.

And Hannibal was close, and more than happy to succumb to his body’s needs. He hummed a warning to Will - though the other hardly took notice - curled his nails down against his scalp and tensed his belly. He thought back to the night before, to the soft sounds Will had made in pain, to the pitched whimpers when his mind let go and let him hover, to the way it had felt when Will had so obediently arched his back and presented his ass for his punishment.

Hanibal came hard, eyes closed and teeth gritted and a foreign word on his tongue that sounded like a growl.

Will swallowed thickly, eagerly. The sound Hannibal had made went straight to his dick, his arousal too heady to ignore. He crawled up the bed to Hannibal, sprawling over his chest. It was different than when Hannibal did the same to him; Hannibal didn’t seem so much bigger than Will, but he was broader, thickly muscled where Will was lean. Will wasn’t a small man, but he felt just a bit dwarfed by Hannibal. It wasn’t a bad feeling, given Hannibal’s propensity for holding him down. 

Hannibal didn’t help by wrapping his arms around Will’s waist, holding Will tight against him. Will sighed, ducking his head happily against Hannibal’s throat. “Good?” he asked, unable to keep himself from seeking the praise Hannibal so willingly offered him. 

Hannibal smiled, tucking a lock of Will’s hair behind his ear and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Good boy,” he agreed, enjoying the shudder it sent through Will. Will squirmed against him, hard against Hannibal’s hip. 

This time, however, Hannibal pointedly ignored the needy motions, contented, it seemed, to stroke Will's hair, down his back, teasing over the sensitive and sore skin of his ass.

"A shower, I think." Hannibal said after a while, grinning when Will snorted and nuzzled at him harder, demanding. "Then breakfast. Something filling for the day to keep your energy up for office hours."

"But I'm hard," it was almost a pout, and Hannibal hummed, amused, at the tone.

"Consider this a _challenge_, Will. You may take your pleasure as you like, when, and as often. But you will share it with me when you do."

"Join me in the shower?" Will asked hopefully, biting his lip when predictably Hannibal shook his head before leaning in to kiss the tip of Will's nose.

"Go shower. And I shall make breakfast for us both."

"And then?"

"And then," Hannibal smiled, "you go to work."

“Nobody actually comes to my office, you know,” Will insisted, though he had already figured out that Hannibal was not the sort to give in. “I work hard to keep them too afraid to speak to me.”

“Then you’ll have a nice, peaceful day to grade papers.” Hannibal’s hand slid down, his nails tracing gently over Will’s ass, just enough for Will to be thoroughly reminded of his soreness. Will took it for a warning, and sighed. 

“Shower,” He agreed, “And grading papers.”

\---

No one came to Will’s office hours, but he had a handful of essays to grade and a book to read. And some things to think about. He did all this sitting awkwardly on his knees in the chair like a kindergartner. 

A challenge, Hannibal had said, knowing exactly what that word did to Will. And so Will didn’t touch himself that night, though he had the time. Nor the next night. He and Hannibal texted back and forth, but no concrete plans were made. 

The third day, after too many obnoxious students, Will took matters into his own hands, firing off a text. 

_You wanted me to share my pleasure with you. Would you like to come watch?_

Then, thinking things through a little more, Will hastily added, _I have seven dogs. Wear an appropriate, easy-to-clean suit. Unless you secretly own jeans. _

Hannibal’s response was appropriately Hannibal.

_You wound me, Will. Shall we do our usual, dinner at seven? Would you like me to bring anything?_

Will typed out several swiftly deleted replies, which suggested Hannibal bring all manner of things with him. Finally, he settled on _an overnight bag, if you want to stay. I’ve the space, and I’m quite far out. Seven’s fine. Dinner’s on me this time._

He sent another message with his address, chewed his lip until he got a reply confirming dinner and immediately cursed his unfounded confidence in offering to cook dinner for someone of Hannibal’s tastes.

As it was closing in on seven, Will was fretting, sitting out on the porch nursing a whiskey as his dogs meandered about amidst the trees. This could easily be the end of it. The few relationships that had lasted beyond a one-night-stand had eventually, inevitably, led to Will’s house, to Will’s dogs, to Will’s mess of a life, and to the sometimes polite sometimes entirely not departure of whoever had shown brief interest in Will fucking Graham.

He swallowed his drink bitterly and hummed, frowning, until one of the dogs trotted up to him to set his chin against Will’s knee. The others, he noticed, turned their attention to the driveway.

Hannibal’s car was as ostentatious as the rest of him and it thrilled Will to no end. He watched as Hannibal parked up behind Will’s car, watched the door open and the man step out, dressed as finely as one going to the fucking opera. He didn’t call the dogs off as he usually would, morbidly curious what Hannibal would do when they surrounded him, a crowd of fur and wagging tails.

The psychiatrist took every dog in, in turn, offered his palm, the back of his hand to sniff. He didn’t face the dogs directly, kept his eyes over their heads until the animals advanced on their own. He was as gentle with them, Will noticed, as he was with Will in the mornings. Soft hands against floppy ears and pointed ones, deft fingers scratching just above lazily shifting tails. He seemed to have little care for how a few of them had pushed up onto their back legs to rest dirty paws against his suit. He seemed unfazed when they licked him.

When Hannibal finally stepped free of them, the pack swarming him but keeping a respectful distance, he met Will’s expression with a smile.

“Very well behaved,” he commented.

The tight knot in Will’s chest unclenched the tiniest bit. He stood to meet Hannibal at the edge of the porch, able to stop himself from hurrying but not from going in for an embrace. Hannibal always smelled good, and he always held Will as if he was thrilled to be doing so. It was enough to go to a guy’s head.

“I spend a lot of time training them whenever I get a new dog,” Will explained, pulling back to shoo the animals back into the house. “Most people get overwhelmed anyway.”

“I like dogs,” Hannibal assured him. In fact, he liked dogs better than most people. Dogs were guileless and honest in their affections. Poor behavior was often more a reflection of the owner than the dog. He was pleased to see that Will took to caring for his pack as whole-heartedly as he took to everything else. 

“You’re in the right place, then,” Will said with a laugh

“Indeed,” Hannibal murmured, taking in the woods, the isolation of the area. He had a variety of ideas for how next to put that flustered blush on Will’s face, but perhaps he would allow the man a moment to calm his pulse, first. 

Will’s nerves were visible on his face, he was sure of it. He’d made stew, because it was the only thing he was halfway decent at. He’d improved on his father’s recipe over the years, with better cuts of beef, a few more vegetables, and a variety of different herbs and spices, until the taste was perfect. But it was still a simple meal, far milder than any feast Hannibal had yet prepared for him. The plating, too, left much to be desired. Will served the stew in large white bowls with tall, mismatched glasses of water. One of the bowls had a chip in it. Will gave that one to himself. 

Hannibal saw none of the inadequacies. Or, perhaps, more accurately, he _saw_ them and they didn’t matter to him. The fact that Will had offered to make him dinner, when he so obviously rarely entertained at home, the fact that Will had welcomed him into his home, when he obviously kept his life private, the fact that he hadn’t _touched_ \- and Hannibal could smell on him that he had not - more than made up for a chipped bowl.

The stew, in fact, was flavourful and filling. It settled in the stomach and relaxed the mind to ease. It tasted like evenings by the fireplace and soggy Louisiana mornings.

Hannibal told him so.

Will shrugged, though his blush, his relief, was evident. “I don’t cook much.” he unnecessarily replied. Hannibal smiled.

“Then you’re trying to seduce me,” he said, thoroughly pleased with the way Will nearly choked on his stew at the comment. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

It was too late to save his reaction, but not too late to salvage his pride. Will straightened up, choosing his next bite a little more carefully. “If I wanted to seduce you, conversation seems more adept than actions.” 

“With you, perhaps,” Hannibal replied. “I enjoy hearing your thoughts.”

“You enjoy _banter_,” Will corrected, grinning. “You like back and forth. You like someone who can keep up with your wit.”

“And so far, you’ve done wonderfully,” Hannibal told him, drawing a pleased hum from Will. 

Dinner did not last long between the two of them. Hannibal attempted to help clear the table and was shooed away firmly. Still, it was not a very large house. There were only a few feet between the table and the sink, and Hannibal admired Will’s every step. 

“You’re very isolated out here,” He said. Will shrugged.

“I prefer it that way. Never had anyone to invite over.” Now, with an hour at least between himself and Hannibal, he was regretting that decision. 

“It’s a beautiful plot of land. So many places I might like to wander with you.”

Hannibal said ‘wander’ the way most people said ‘fuck,’ and clearly with the same intention. Will’s bowl slipped from his hand and fell into the sink with a clatter, and he glared over his shoulder at Hannibal’s placid smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t do that on purpose, just to get a rise out of me,” Will accused. 

Hannibal just continued smiling, ducking his head only when one of the smaller dogs came up and pressed his feet against Hannibal’s leg to get his attention. It was Buster, surprisingly. That dog was the closest to Will in temperament when it came to socializing, it was rare he liked anyone at all. Will watched over his shoulder a moment as Hannibal sunk into a graceful crouch and offered Buster the palm of his hand to nose against.

Satisfied he wasn’t hiding anything exciting or edible, Buster let him be, and Hannibal stood again.

“I enjoy your responses,” Hannibal admitted, stepping a little nearer. Not enough to crowd Will as he continued cleaning up, but enough to properly share the space. He leaned his hip against the counter - chipped lino, nothing like Hannibal’s goddamn marble - and ducked his head. “I’m slowly learning which particular phrasing gets the better ones.”

Will snorted. “You like cloaking your words in innuendo and seeing if people understand it. I see you, Hannibal. I know what you’re doing.”

Hannibal hummed, then, pleased, and tilted his head back to roll his neck pleasurably. “It’s rare I’ll bring myself to say something so blatant as I would highly enjoy tying you naked to a tree and tormenting you, but you seem to bring out the worst in me.”

Will’s breath caught. He could imagine it. He could imagine it in several different positions, actually, and planned to imagine it multiple times over the next few days. Drying his hands off on a towel, he turned to face Hannibal, taking a step closer, sliding into Hannibal’s space. “I like the worst of you. You’re… _interesting_ when you’re less restrained.”

“There’s a difference between being unrestrained and being _crude_.” Hannibal could smell the arousal on Will, the heady musk of someone needy and barely holding back. Will had been teetering on the verge of it all night, and Hannibal’s remark had tipped him over. Good. Hannibal liked him needy. He pulled Will in with a hand on his hip, pressing a kiss to his cheek instead of where Will clearly would have preferred one. 

“There’s a time and a place for crudeness,” Will argued, “one could argue that sexual intimacy is inherently crude.”

“Then there’s no need for me to add to it,” Hannibal teased, planting another chaste kiss against Will’s temple.

“But Hannibal,” Will said, tilting his head back to give Hannibal a look that was very nearly dangerous in its mischievous intent, “If you want something, you ask for it.”

The echo of Hannibal’s own words, spoken softly over Will’s trembling back then and purred against him now made the man straighten, tense pleasantly, relax again.

“And you want me to fuck you,” Hannibal confirmed, smiling when Will grinned up at him, pressing nearer, hard, warm, so aroused, against him.

“I do want you to fuck me.”

Hannibal tilted Will’s chin up and drew their noses together, speaking against his lips. “I won’t fuck you,” he murmured, tightening his hold just a little when Will made a sound of clear displeasure. “I won’t fuck you, but I will make you come.”

Will closed his eyes, sighing low and warm, and wrapped his fingers in Hannibal’s jacket. “Yeah, you better,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss him properly.

Yes, this they were good at now, this they were fucking spectacular at now. Will opened his mouth willingly, pushed up on his toes as Hannibal wrapped an arm around his lower back and tugged him near. It was slow and aching and hot as hell and it wasn’t long before Will was pushing his hips demandingly against Hannibal’s.

“Are you really going to tease me through this again?” Will asked, breathless, turning his head against the familiar nuzzle as Hannibal leaned into him. “It’s been three fucking days.”

“By your choice,” Hannibal reminded him, amused, before kissing him chastely one more time and stepping back to lead them into the living room. 

“Are we to have an audience, do you think?” He added, amused, watching as a few of the dogs jumped down from the couch in the front room to follow them into the house. “Perhaps you know more of kink than you are letting on, after all.”

Will flushed, pulling away from Hannibal to open the front door. The dogs, eager for another round outside and too well-trained to wander off, spilled out onto the porch. Except for Winston, who sat stock-still staring back and forth between Will and Hannibal. He was always the most distrustful of strangers.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Will explained, as if the dog could understand him. Hannibal thought it was an odd promise for him to make, given his newfound taste for masochism. But there was no reason to push the issue. Winston took his time heading out into the yard, as if to prove he was going because he wanted to and not because Will told him to. “There,” Will said, shutting the door behind him. “Where were we?”

When Will turned, Hannibal was already there, crowding him up against the door. This kiss was more intense than the last, Hannibal coaxing Will to open up and then nipping gently at his lower lip as he pulled away. “It’s an unusual place for a bed,” Hannibal said, “but convenient for our needs.”

“Old habits,” Will managed between kisses, wrapping his arms over Hannibal’s shoulders as the other moved his to Will’s hips. “Back when I was with police and - oh _fuck_.”

Three days was enough for the sting to go away on Will’s ass, but far from long enough for the bruises to heal. Hannibal’s hands, squeezing, massaging, _spreading_ -

“Fuck it, do we even need the bed?” Will groaned, shoving a foot back against the door and drawing his knee up to bring Hannibal closer, rutting up against him, entirely shameless.

In truth, Hannibal hadn’t much patience left either; he had spent the three days thoroughly enjoying their brief typed conversations, had thought back to the nights they had already shared together and imagined more going forward. And now here, with Will desperate and needy against him, Hannibal decided to just indulge in their mutual impatience.

“Your hands, Will,” he said, smiling when the sound Will made was damn near feral, both hands immediately slipping from his shoulders to shove between Hannibal’s legs, working his belt open. Hannibal kissed against his cheek, his temples, breathed in the warmth of his hair. His own hands worked slowly, deliberately, not touching Will until Will was grasping Hannibal’s cock in his hands and whining his need against him.

“Slow,” Hannibal murmured, wrapping his fingers around Will and twisting his wrist on the upstroke, delighted in how quickly he felt precome slick his palm.

“Three days was slow enough,” Will replied, but his hands were gentle where they cupped Hannibal. He moved gently, teasing the fingertips of one hand over Hannibal’s balls, the other hand mimicking Hannibal’s own grip around Will. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“You have a mouth on you,” Hannibal chided, his criticism a harsh breath against Will’s jaw. Will tilted his head back, welcoming the gentle scrape of Hannibal’s teeth. 

“You love my mouth,” Will insisted, teasing his thumb over the head of Hannibal’s cock, sliding the foreskin back with slow, light strokes. 

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully, then reached one hand around to squeeze at Will’s bruises again. Will cried out, head thunking against the door. It was clearly a reprimand, yet also clear encouragement. Hannibal used his grip to encourage a slow and steady roll of Will’s hips, grinding their cocks together. 

The sensations damn near overwhelmed Will as he both pressed back against the hand causing him pain, and forward to the hand bringing him unbelievable pleasure. He was going to come soon, his nerves were rattled with the anticipation. He hoped, god he hoped, that Hannibal wasn’t in the mood to tell him to hold off again.

He’d end up disobeying that without even trying to.

Hannibal made a noise against Will’s cheek that would sound helpless on anyone else. Needy, low, almost shivering as it left Hannibal’s lips.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, accent thick and words swelling together on his tongue. “When you let go, Will.”

“_Fuck,_” Will freed a hand to wrap around Hannibal’s shoulders, nails digging in, holding the fuck on as they both pushed each other closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to come, Hannibal, I can’t -”

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask,” it brooked no argument, but Hannibal was just as near to his own release, just as precariously balanced. And that thought alone brought a grin to Will’s lips, tilted his words into a pout.

“Please,” he said. “Please make me come?”

Hannibal hummed warning, dug his fingers into the harshest bruise the belt had left against Will’s skin and the other bucked up, shuddering.

“Please let me come,” Will amended. “Can - can I _please_ come?”

“Yes,” the word was lost in the hiss of breath, the pounding of blood in Will’s ears, the trembling of both of their bodies and the heat against their hands as they both gave in to orgasm and clung together to ride it through.

Hannibal held Will up between his body and the door, his face tucked into Will’s curls. Will held onto him with his free hand, both of them panting. Neither wanted to move at first, but eventually Hannibal straightened himself up, drawing Will up with him. 

Will hefted his pants up with his clean hand, grinning at Hannibal. “Hold on. I’ll clean us up.”

Hannibal held still for the damp washcloth Will ran over both of them, but once that was done, Hannibal pulled him back towards the bed. They sprawled out across it together, carefully intertwined. Will had his hand wrapped up in Hannibal’s shirt, holding him close. 

“You did well,” Hannibal told him, combing his hair away from his face.

“Don’t patronize me,” Will protested, despite the pleased expression on his face.

Hannibal licked his lips, quirked a brow, and rephrased.

“You were a very good boy, Will.”

“Jesus,” Will buried his blush against Hannibal’s chest and curled closer against him. But he didn’t argue against that, not this time.

They lay together for a good while, half dozing, as lazy hands explored the body against their own. No more desperation, no more teasing need, just touch, reminders, reassurances. After a while, Will stood, holding himself on all fours over Hannibal as he arched his back and let the bones click with a pleased groan. Then he climbed off, went to open the door and whistle for his dogs to return.

Hannibal was mostly out of his suit when Will wrapped his arms around him and pressed up against his back. “Dogs sleep on the bed with me,” he warned him. Hannibal’s laugh vibrated against Will’s ribs.

“Of course they do. Who would I be to displace them?”

There was no rancor, there, no cruelty. Even after dinner, after a mindblowing orgasm, Hannibal seemed absolutely content to sleep in Will’s home, in his bed, surrounded by dogs. There was something deeply powerful in that honesty, to Will. He wouldn’t voice it, but he certainly appreciated it.

Will slept in a thin shirt and boxers. Hannibal slept as he did at home, a pair of probably-real-silk pyjama bottoms and bare on top. For a while, they talked, lazy mumblings about mundane things as the dogs settled for the night, three on the bed digging nests between the two bodies under the blankets. When conversation settled to silence, Will pressed nearer, nuzzling against Hannibal’s chest until he was gently turned the other way and spooned up against.

Will wasn’t sure when it happened, he was probably asleep at the time, but he woke with Hannibal heavy on top of him again, like the first night, like the second. That consistency, that comfort, made Will want to be nowhere else in the world.


	3. Sensory Deprivation, Temperature Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I think about you like this often," Hannibal admitted quietly, the words tickling against Will's skin. "Pliant and beautiful for me."_
> 
> _"Obedient?" Will added, amused._
> 
> _"Are you obedient, Will?" Hannibal teased. Sharp nails down Will's side were eased with soft fingertips as Hannibal continued to hold him still. "If I tell you to wait, will you complain?"_
> 
> _"Wait for how long?" Will asked, feeling Hannibal's laugh against his ribs. "And for what?"_
> 
> _"For however long I tell you, and because I told you to."_

Will hadn’t slept well. The caseload was piling up and Jack was on his ass to cut down lecture times and go back into the field and that was the last thing Will wanted. He’d lapsed before, in the field, found himself in a shittone of trouble and with a mild Aspirin addiction he’d taken months to kick; he didn’t need that crap again.

By Thursday, when Jack still hadn’t relented, Will wrote to Hannibal.

_Too bad you’re not my shrink anymore. Could’ve told Jack I’m on the verge of a breakdown and a danger to myself so he’d back the fuck off._

He closed his eyes and rocked his chair back, knee against the table to keep himself balanced as he waited for a reply. Much as he hated the idea of falling into a comfortable _normal_ routine, he and Hannibal had been seeing each other for just less than three months now and… things weren’t going wrong.

Somehow, miraculously, things weren’t going wrong.

_Can’t have that_. Came the eventual reply, and Will snorted, resting his phone against his leg to type back.

_Time for some unconventional therapy, perhaps?_

Sex had always been a great way for Will to let off steam. A sound fucking, an exhausting night wrestling a willing body and he could put up with a lot of shit. Since Hannibal, it wasn’t even just sex anymore that eased Will’s muscles lax.

_I’ve been known to make house calls._

_Gracious of you._

_Seven?_

_As always. Wear jeans._

_Don’t push your luck, Will._

At least when he left his office Will was smiling. He had three days of damn near no sleep behind him but he was smiling with the promise of the evening ahead.

Hannibal pulled up exactly at seven. He was, of course, not wearing jeans, though he’d conceded to Will’s need for casualness with slacks and a sweater instead of his usual suit. Will was waiting on the porch, looking positively relieved to see him. 

The groceries could wait. 

Will’s shoulders were tense, his brow furrowed. Hannibal placed a kiss to his forehead, and then to his lips, pulling Will in with a hand at the nape of his head and taking what he wanted, until Will’s body finally began to unwind. 

“Hello to you too,” Will whispered when they parted. His lips were reddened, enough to serve as temptation when Will bit at the lower. He looked far more contented than he had when Hannibal reached him. 

“Would you mind helping with the groceries?” Hannibal asked, startling Will out of the haze he’d found himself in. 

“Groceries?”

Hannibal had brought an obscene amount of groceries. Will hovered by the kitchen counter, feeling absolutely useless as Hannibal brought out fresh herbs he couldn’t even recognize. He wasn’t a bad cook by any means, but generally his seasonings came from a jar. 

“Are you feeding us for the night or are we stockpiling for the apocalypse?”

Hannibal pulled out what was _probably_ fennel, Will hadn’t actually eaten fennel in several years. “I admit, I hoped to find myself invited again sooner, rather than later.”

"You're always welcome," Will bit his tongue before he could say more and busied himself keeping the dogs out of the kitchen as they tried to crowd Hannibal for pets and treats.

Hannibal gave Will a soft look and continued to put things away. He didn't ask Will where they should go, he either found where ingredients already existed or made room for them. He held up a pack of expensive looking coffee and Will groaned.

"Tell me that's what you woke me with,"

"It is."

"It's like an orgasm in a cup," Will muttered, smiling when Hannibal leveled an amused look at him. "So… why the groceries? I invited you to dinner, shouldn't I be feeding you?"

"When one's past patient admits to being near a breakdown, one ensures it does not happen." Hannibal replied, amused, watching Will's cheeks redden. "I would like to cook for you. I enjoy it."

He set aside the final few items before taking the steps needed to reach Will again. A finger beneath his chin and Hannibal kissed him, deliberate and deep, until Will made a soft sound and set his hands to his chest. He pulled back with a nuzzle and offered Will a smile.

"I'm glad you invited me."

Will was becoming more and more glad of it too. Hannibal was a calm and subtle man in general, but he was openly affectionate with Will. He had a way of touching Will as little as possible and still making Will feel like he was the center of a laser-like focus. 

Will drew the line at leaving Hannibal to cook alone when Will had been the one to invite him. Hannibal welcomed his presence with a fond smile and careful instructions. Mostly, he left Will in charge of cutting things. Sauces and meats were still Hannibal’s to control, as was the careful saute of the vegetables. Will looked at the fennel like it was a strange, alien creature, and did not seem entirely convinced when Hannibal added it to the pan. 

“How well-stocked is your china?” Hannibal asked as the recipe neared completion. Will winced. 

“Define ‘china,’” he said, “and ‘well-stocked.’ In fact, just assume I mostly survive on the Quantico cafeteria and gas-station hot dogs. Not that I do that, of course.”

Hannibal could not control his grimace. “Do the best you can, then. Set the table for me, steak knives for the pork, wine glasses if you have them.”

Will offered him an apologetic smile and moved to comply. It wasn't until he was halfway through digging out wine glasses he hadn't used in half a decade from the corridor closet that he even realized this was the first time he felt _guilty_ for not taking care of _himself_ properly.

The table was a far cry from anything Hannibal usually set, but Will wasn't humiliated by the meagre offerings. At least the plates matched.

"What did I distract you from this afternoon?" Will asked him when Hannibal refused his help bringing the meal to the table.

"I was thinking of you."

"Weak, Hannibal," Will snorted, drawing the tip of his finger around the rim of his wine glass as he watched Hannibal dole out their dinner. "I'm charmed enough."

"Is honesty a weakness?" Hannibal mused, pouring the wine next before taking a seat. The dogs milled around them but none begged either of them for handouts. Once in a while Will would drop a hand for one of the dogs to nose against.

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" Hannibal added after a while, no accusation there, yet Will felt like he was being chastised.

"You had appointments."

"I always have appointments," Hannibal pointed out. "And yet my priorities remain the same."

Will hesitated. “I’m a priority?” There was no way to ask that didn’t sound… almost infantile. He cringed at the sound of his own voice, the hint of neediness there. 

Hannibal seemed pleased, though thankfully not smug. “I’d like the chance to care for you,” he said, his voice soft.

Will busied himself with his dinner. The atmosphere between them had been intense from the beginning, but even still he found himself uncertain of what to do with the level of affection Hannibal was offering him. It was appealing, certainly, but somewhat intimidating.

But then, Will hadn’t allowed Hannibal to intimidate him before. 

Will ate this meal much like he had the first, eyes closed on a particularly satisfying bite, polite but quick. Hannibal had prepped this meal especially with Will in mind. No doubt the body would be another phone call from Jack, one that Hannibal would be happy to coax Will away from. Another chance to show Will the stability and comfort Hannibal could offer. 

He allowed Will to do the dishes, since he seemed to be chomping at the bit to be 'useful', and crouched to scratch behind Winston's ears. The dog still held a modicum of mistrust for him and the obstinance was a welcome challenge. They regarded each other in silence and Winston turned away first.

Will was drying his hands when Hannibal came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle, nuzzling possessively into Will's hair.

"You haven't slept."

"Not much."

Hannibal clicked his tongue and pulled Will back against him tighter. He let a hand linger over his stomach as the other moved to gently cover Will's eyes, guiding his head to lie back against Hannibal's shoulder.

"Can't have that." He murmured, pressing a kiss to Will's cheek. "I would see you well."

"Going to help me sleep?" Will asked him, amused, the innuendo clear in his tone, and Hannibal hummed in reply.

“I have an idea by now of what relaxes you.” Another kiss, a little further back, along Will’s jaw. 

“And what do you have in mind this time?” Hannibal’s ideas had all been a wonder so far, moments of intensity, pockets of peace in Will’s noisy life. 

Hannibal’s hand slid a little further down his stomach, teasing at the hem of Will’s shirt, slow, steady, no rush to the finish line for him. “I would like to bind you to the bed,” he decided, his voice a teasing whisper against the shell of Will’s ear, “safe and secure, tightly kept for me.”

Will shuddered, feeling Hannibal’s smile press against his temple. In the darkness, Will’s imagination was vivid, painting a picture that would linger long after Hannibal left. 

“You would be good for me, so sweetly still. I’d keep your sight. Just like this, no other concerns beyond me.”

"Control freak," Will replied, lax against him, fond. He reached up to draw his fingers over the arm around his middle and then let his hands relax at his sides.

That was acquiescence enough. Answer enough. Hannibal turned his face against Will's hair.

"Your safeword?"

"I won't use it."

"But you will tell me what it is."

Will laughed. "Chesapeake."

"Good boy. Go undress for me. I'll let the dogs free to roam and join you."

Will kept his eyes closed for a moment after Hannibal's hand moved away and then with a sigh straightened up to take his own weight again.

He watched Hannibal gather the dogs to him with a similar sound Will made to get their attention, he watched his pack follow Hannibal to the door - Winston stopping by Will, as always. Then he went to undress.

Just as he did every night when a message from Hannibal came in lieu of warm words whispered against his neck, asking him the same.

There was such safety in it. A constant. A reliable fallback.

Will's eyes were already closed by the time Hannibal returned, taking Will's wrists loosely in his hands and guiding him behind his back.

"Stay with me," Hannibal reminded him fondly, smiling when Will snorted.

"Where would I go?"

Hannibal’s lips traced a tendon in Will’s neck, soft, almost a tickle. Will stifled another laugh. 

“It can be hard to feel present when our other senses are taken from us.”

“It’s never hard for me to feel present with you.”

He’d pleased Hannibal. He was smiling as he guided Will down onto the bed, spread out on his back. Hannibal’s hands trailed up his sides, fingertips up over his arms, guiding them up above his head. Will squirmed a little, huffing out a frustrated breath.

“You didn’t tell me you were ticklish,” Hannibal mused.

“Yeah, well, pretend you didn’t find out.” There was a flash in Hannibal’s eyes that told Will he very much _wouldn’t_, but he didn’t test Will’s patience just yet. Instead, he fetched two long strips of silk from his overnight bag. Will recognized two of Hannibal’s favorite ties, ones he seemed always to be wearing when Will came for dinner or conversation. Or ‘conversation,’ as the case may have been. 

For the first time, Will felt a bit guilty about the cheapness of his bed. Hannibal had never complained about the large windows, about the dogs, about the flimsy mattress. Now, though, there was no headboard, nothing like Hannibal’s innate wooden frame with the discreet gaps Will had noticed.

Hannibal didn’t seem bothered. He pulled each of Will’s wrists up in turn, placing butterfly-soft kisses to the thin, sensitive skin of his inner wrists before he began to wind the red tie between them. 

"I need you in the present moment. Consider it a form of mindfulness."

"Bringing work to bed with you, doctor?" Will grinned, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm starting to wonder if you have a fetish."

"I have many," Hannibal replied, amused, kissing Will's forehead. "Keep your arms there for me."

Will sighed, aiming for put-upon but landing somewhere in the vicinity of fond and pleased. He didn't move as Hannibal kissed his cheek next before bringing up the other tie. Some ghastly paisley pattern that Hannibal somehow managed to make look sophisticated.

"When one sense is taken away, others become more sensitive to compensate the loss. A survival adaptation that serves a much more pleasurable purpose for us now."

Will narrowed his eyes but obediently closed them when Hannibal guided him to. The blindfold wasn't tight, it was comfortable and cool against his skin, but the effect was immediate. Will heard the crickets outside as though someone had thrown the door wide open, he could hear his dogs shuffling through the leaves and clicking claws on the porch. He felt every breath against his skin like a feather, every fold of the sheet beneath him.

He would panic, if he weren't so entirely aware of Hannibal so near. He licked his lips, laughed nervously and flexed his fingers.

"Now what?"

"Trust me." Hannibal replied honestly. He wanted nothing else.

He sat back and watched Will for a few moments, until the tension got to him, until he was starting to squirm and seek Hannibal out, and then Hannibal set his nails against Will's chest and drew them down, leaving marks that reddened against pale skin.

Will’s breath left him in a startled ‘ah!’ He arched his back into the sudden sharpness, only to find a broad palm across his belly, pushing him back down. Hannibal’s hand lingered for a moment, drawing across his skin in a slow slide, bringing up goosebumps on Will’s arms.

Will found it was already difficult to stay still, pressing his wrists back against the pillow above his head. He longed for something to grasp, something to moor him to the earth when Hannibal stopped touching him. With nothing but the bed at his back, Will felt a little lost. 

The next touch was a kiss, just below Will’s belly button. It wasn’t quite chaste, just damp enough that Will’s stomach jumped and quivered.

Then nothing, again, for long enough that Will huffed impatiently. “You could at least talk to me, if you’re going to leave me alone here.”

"Have I left you alone?" Hannibal asked him, amused. But when his mouth returned it didn't relent. Kisses pressed hot against Will's stomach and up to his chest, nipples tormented by teeth and pinching fingers until Will made a beautifully helpless sound and Hannibal kissed it from him.

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Hannibal asked him, shifting to press his body heavy and warm against Will's, holding him still.

"Not fucking much," Will laughed, arching up against him, laying still with a groan when Hannibal deliberately pushed himself up so Will couldn't reach. "I'm thinking about how I want to touch you," he admitted, "and wishing you'd touch me more."

"How?"

"How," Will muttered, tilting his head back to welcome Hannibal's teeth against his pulse. "However."

"Will."

"I want you to pull my hair. I want you to kiss down to my cock and ignore it and spread my legs instead." Will squirmed up against him.

"Better."

Hannibal nuzzled Will's hair, brought a hand up to wind his fingers in the curls before slowly, deliberately, tugging it to arch Will's back.

"I think about you like this often," Hannibal admitted quietly, the words tickling against Will's skin. "Pliant and beautiful for me."

"Obedient?" Will added, amused.

"Are you obedient, Will?" Hannibal teased. Sharp nails down Will's side were eased with soft fingertips as Hannibal continued to hold him still. "If I tell you to wait, will you complain?"

"Wait for how long?" Will asked, feeling Hannibal's laugh against his ribs. "And for what?"

"For however long I tell you, and because I told you to."

Will’s cock was hard against his belly. He shivered now, a full body motion that spread all the way down to his toes. The shape of Hannibal’s words, the soft lilt of his accent, the audible pleasure of his smile, all of it combined to swirl heat in Will’s belly, his arousal thick in the air. 

“If you made it worthwhile for me, in the end,” Will decided. Hannibal’s lips shifted against his belly, a curving smile that grew teeth and grazed sparks on Will’s skin.

“Sometimes the journey is its own reward.” Hannibal’s mouth bit heat into Will, a long, slow journey of kisses down over his hip, just as Will had requested, until he could lift Will’s leg by the knee and bite his mark into his sensitive thighs. He sucked a matching mark into the other thigh, and then surged up over Will again, his body heavy and firm over Will’s. He trailed fingertips over Will’s arms until Will squirmed, then pinned his bound hands with a single one of his own. 

“Would you wait?” Hannibal asked again, lips brushing the curve of Will’s ear.

“Just for the pleasure of pleasing you?” Will pretended to think about it, even as Hannibal’s thigh pressed between his own, up against the evidence of Will’s own pleasure. Hannibal’s games had never yet failed to entice. “Yes. Are you asking me to wait, Hannibal?”

“Yes.” A soft kiss to Will’s lips and Hannibal’s weight was off him and Will shivered despite the fact that the house was far from cold. He turned his head towards the kitchen, listening to Hannibal’s near-silent footsteps. Will’s own breath was like a damn steam train in his ears no matter how hard he tried to calm it, he could feel his pulse beat a thick baseline beneath it all and his entire body _sang_ with what was being done to it.

Or, more accurately, not done to it.

He laughed - he couldn’t help it - as he heard Hannibal opening and closing drawers, shifting things around, turning on the tap to mask his true intentions in the kitchen. He didn’t, however, move. 

He waited.

By the time Hannibal returned to him, Will was trembling, but his smile was unmistakable.

“I want you to tell me what you’re feeling,” Hannibal’s words whispered against Will’s cheek, followed by a hot press of lips, and before Will could snark back about misusing cliched psychotherapy terms, something freezing - or burning - stung the center of his chest, slipping slick down to his bellybutton.

Will gasped, back arching until Hannibal pushed him back down. Hannibal’s tongue traced the same path, a line of fire bisecting Will’s body. Freezing, then. 

“Cold,” Will moaned as the ice traced a circle around his nipple, not quite touching, just a tease. “Cold enough to burn.”

Hannibal’s hot mouth sucked Will’s other nipple to a peak, drawing the sensation out with gentle scrapes of his teeth. 

“It aches,” Will said, struggling for words as Hannibal undid him in so little time. “And-” Hannibal replaced his tongue with the shock of the ice. This time, it drew a mewl from Will’s throat, an embarrassingly high sound that he couldn’t stop. The ice traced a line across Will’s chest, torturing the other nipple to a peak, and then trailed back down to rest in the dip of Will’s belly button. Hannibal left it there, water pooling as he sucked heat back into Will’s sensitized skin. 

Hannibal took his time chasing goosebumps over Will’s flesh. The swift changes from heat to cold were stuttering Will’s mind to a final deliberate halt as Hannibal had hoped it would. A mind like Will’s - extraordinary, exhausted - had no off switch, it was constantly cataloguing and listing and remembering. And while Hannibal respected and highly admired the quality in Will, he found himself more and more wanting to ease him into comfort and quiet when they were together.

By the time Hannibal reached Will’s belly, the ice was almost melted. He let the water drip down Will’s sides, ignoring it in favor of taking up the last of the ice to melt against his tongue.

Then he took Will into his mouth and sucked.

Will keened, high and needy. Hannibal’s icy tongue pressed up under the sensitive head, drawing another desperate little cry from Will’s throat. Hannibal’s mouth was slowly warming from Will’s body heat, but not so quickly that Will didn’t writhe under his efforts. Hannibal pinned him in place with a tight grip on his hips, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises that Will would linger over later. 

Hannibal’s mouth was a steady pressure, constantly moving, drawing whimpers from Will with every pull. When Hannibal pulled back to suck and tease at the head, Will sobbed, his bound hands coming to tangle in Hannibal’s hair. 

Hannibal pulled away, despite Will’s whine of protest, nipping gently at his searching fingertips. 

“What were you told, Will?”

Hannibal’s voice flooded over him, an anchor in the darkness, security while Will was flying apart. Will bit hard at his lip and then slowly forced himself to raise his hands back up over his head. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal praised, swallowing Will down once more. 

Will damn near _sobbed_ at the words. His entire body was so sensitive he could feel air pass over his skin, could feel every shiver pass from Hannibal to himself, could feel his lungs goddamn _working_ to bring oxygen in and use it.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, squirming against Hannibal’s grip, and felt his smile split to a grin when Hannibal merely pulled away and kissed the base of his cock with a casual, _then come_ murmured against sweaty skin.

So he did. Hard and hot into Hannibal’s mouth, hips undulating in his pleasure until that, too, grew to be too much and he begged Hannibal off with a whine.

Hannibal took his time working his mouth back up Will’s body to his lips. He nuzzled between his legs, breathed in the warmth from his belly, relished in the way his heart thudded against his ribs. When he kissed Will it was with both hands gentle against his face, working Will’s mouth open with soft, deliberate motions.

He was lovely.

In that moment, Hannibal knew that there was little he wouldn’t do for Will Graham, should he ask.

He removed the blindfold first, kissing Will’s eyelids, drawing hands through his hair. He looked blissed, eyes glazed in pleasure and exhaustion, a dark, deep blue in the wan light of the livingroom. Only when Will could see, did Hannibal gently bring his bound hands down to work free the tie and kiss the marks it left behind on his wrists.

“Beautiful,” he told him.

Will was still flushed from his orgasm, and the compliment only brought a brighter, more radiant pink to his cheeks. Hannibal pressed his mouth to each of those in turn, just to watch the bright, tired smile it earned. Will hummed happily, sliding both hands over Hannibal’s shoulders, down his chest, easing between their bodies towards Hannibal’s groin.

Hannibal was certainly hard in his comfortable slacks, but he gently pried Will’s hands away from his skin, pressing a kiss to each palm before pinning Will’s hands beside his head. “Not tonight, sweet boy.”

Will frowned, but he was clearly too worn down to argue. He nodded instead, turning his face towards the door. “The dogs…”

“I’ll get them,” Hannibal whispered, “and the lights. Stay just like this.” He moved Will’s hands down to his sides, squeezing his wrists lightly. “Just like this,” he repeated.

Will blinked, and found that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. His mind was a buzz of white noise but no longer bothersome. He watched Hannibal make his way to the front door and open it, leaning out to call the dogs in. He watched as they all flooded through, some between his legs, others around them. He watched the way Hannibal dropped a hand immediately for the bigger dogs to rub their muzzles against.

Will blinked again and now Hannibal was near the bed once more, halfway out of his pants, his sweater and shirt folded away already. Will hummed, pleased, but didn’t move, watching Hannibal undress entirely. He was hard, still, hadn’t taken the time to take his own pleasure after bringing Will to near-coma with his own and there was something startlingly pleasing about that.

_This is about you._

It so often was. And more and more as they saw each other Will found that he _liked it_. He liked being the one brought to orgasm, the one teasing Hannibal to his own, the one waking to a well-timed message wishing him good morning and telling him to buy a cup of coffee on the way to work so he didn’t forget.

He liked it.

He liked _him_.

When Hannibal crawled into bed on top of Will, Will finally moved, draping sleep-heavy arms over him to pull him near, tucking his nose against Hannibal’s neck and breathing in the smell of him.

“Got late start tomorrow,” he mumbled, Hannibal brought up a hand to cup the back of Will’s head, fingers stroking gently through his hair.

“Then we’ll sleep in.”

“You have work.”

“I mightn’t,” Hannibal’s tone was pleased, amused, and Will’s chest filled with a warmth he really didn’t want to think about right then so he didn’t, he just clung to Hannibal until both got cool enough to wriggle under the blankets, dogs piling up around them at their own pace.


	4. Semi-Public Sex and Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Will was spread before him like a feast. Half dressed, fucked out, debauched and stunning. The next time they had dinner at the table, he would watch Will particularly closely, knowing his mind would be reliving this, taking as much pleasure in it as Hannibal._
> 
> _Hannibal pulled out his chair, sat down at the table as though his lover wasn’t spread wide and aching before him, and deliberately pushed the chair back to give Will room to move._
> 
> _“Come here, then,” he coaxed._

“Usually when people say they left a _surprise_ in my bag they packed me lunch, Hannibal.”

“I did pack you lunch.” Hannibal replied blithely. He could hear Will curse softly on the other end. Will had left Hannibal’s home not half an hour ago, taking his time to drive into work, set his things aside, and settle in for office hours Will claimed no one ever took advantage of.

A typical Tuesday.

A typical Tuesday with a twist, he supposed, was more accurate.

“What if I had pulled that out during class?”

“You don’t have class.”

“In the fucking staff room, Hannibal.”

Hannibal licked his lips and imagined it a moment. The thought was rather pleasant.

“I’d rather you wore it,” Hannibal replied, “that way you certainly shan’t find it in your bag during inopportune moments.”

“I won’t wear a butt plug at work, Hannibal.”

“You will,” came the calm reply, and Hannibal knew, even as Will called him quite a rude word before hanging up the phone that Will would obey. He’d gotten quite good at following orders and finding that obedience a reward in itself.

True enough, he had a message from Will not five minutes later.

_You couldn’t’ve snuck lube in as well?_

Hannibal smiled.

_Put that mouth to good use, Will._

In his office at the FBI academy, Will was cursing Hannibal’s name again, this time under his breath. It wasn’t a huge plug, but it was larger than he’d like to take with nothing but his own saliva to ease the way, solid metal and curved in a way that Will just _knew_ was going to be an issue.

“If I have to suffer, he has to suffer,” Will muttered to himself. He triple checked that the door was locked and then leaned against it, bringing the hefty plug to his lips.

In the photo he sent to Hannibal, helpfully labeled ‘you’re such an asshole,’ Will had the plug fully eased into his mouth, nothing but the awkward handle sticking out. He’d gagged himself a few times with it to make his eyes water, and the glare he was giving the camera had scared more than one FBI potential out of his office. 

He didn’t wait for Hannibal’s response, shoving his phone back into his pocket and then his pants down around his knees. The office wasn’t really set up for sexual encounters, for obvious reasons. Will carefully braced himself over his desk and thanked a god he didn’t believe in that there was no window in his office door. 

The heft of the plug turned out to be a benefit. It helped Will ease the plug in, with tiny little pushes. The sensation was a little too dry, that extra little bit of discomfort that Hannibal was no doubt sitting around smug about. 

Will felt too full when the plug was finally seated. He’d been right about the curve, nudging up ever-so-slightly against his prostate. He took a moment to breathe, braced on his elbows over the desk with his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He didn’t want to stand up, knowing what would happen when he did. Cursing Hannibal one more time, for good measure, he pulled up his pants and straightened himself out, slowly, steadily.

It didn’t help. The plug sat firm inside him, rubbing up against his prostate with every little shift. Will wasn’t aroused enough for it to be pleasurable yet, but he was getting there. No doubt he’d spend the rest of his office hours fighting a painful hard-on.

But he didn’t have to spend them here. No one ever came to office hours anyway, Will purposefully terrified all his students. He could waste a few hours in the cafeteria, biding his time until he could show up at Hannibal’s and yell at him in person for this.

He’d managed to find a place to sit, back against the wall, enough that he could lever himself back up should he need to, and buried his eyes in a book. Unlike his office, the cafeteria had coffee. It had passable food - though Will had an unspeakably delicious lunch _packed in his bag_. It was less likely students would approach him here, too - no one went out of their way to make themselves seem like _that student._

For a while, Will managed to distract himself. The plug was filling, heavy, pleasurable, and kept him slightly tense. Will nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed.

_Enjoying your office hours, Will?_

Will snorted. According to his watch he’d been in the cafeteria for half the allocated time. No one would have come to his door, Will could almost certainly guarantee it. Instead, he tilted his phone and took a photo of his displeased expression.

_Enjoy is an interesting word._ He added.

There wasn’t a response for a while, and Will figured another patient must have taken Hannibal’s time. But then his phone pinged again.

_Everything is relative, I suppose. Where are you?_

Will blinked. _Office hours._

_And you take them in your office?_

_Where else would I take them?_ But there was a slow, sinking dread in the pit of Will’s stomach. A heavy feeling that had absolutely nothing to do with the steady pressure of the plug. 

_Therefore, if someone were to come surprise you at work, they would find you at your desk?_

“Oh fuck,” Will whispered, as his phone buzzed again.

_Perhaps I’m at the wrong door?_

“Fuck fuck _fuck_.” Will scrambled to gather up his things, groaning low in his throat as the plug rubbed up against his insides, shifting aggressively with Will’s haste. He nearly tripped over himself in his hurry to get out of the cafeteria. By the time he arrived to find Hannibal standing in front of his very locked office door, Will was red faced, less from his run and more from the tremor of arousal running through his body. 

“I can explain,” Will said, feeling incredibly stupid as he said it. 

“Can you?” Hannibal replied in an overly-pleasant tone, “I’d love to hear you. Perhaps inside?”

Will attempted a glare but it didn’t even register on his face. His brows furrowed and with a sigh he took his key out of his pocket to unlock the door.

“No one ever comes to office hours.” Will muttered.

“Now that isn’t true, is it, Will?” Hannibal followed him in, amused. He cast the corridor a cursory look, assuring them both that there really was no one there, before closing the door behind himself and flicking the lock.

“Now,” Hannibal held his hands folded before himself, tone low and skirting the one that he knew set Will’s skin to goosebumps. “Your explanation?”

Will had tossed his bag to the chair, hands running through his hair as he gave Hannibal a half-hearted frown. “I gave it at the door,” he replied, swallowing when Hannibal took a step closer.

“And yet, here I was. At your door, Will. Since the beginning of your office hours. And you were not.”

The room felt very small. Hannibal had that insufferable look on his face, the one that meant he was plotting, and Will was going to hate whatever he’d come up with as much as he loved it. In the past several months, Will had seen that expression more than once. “I would have been here if I’d known you were coming,” Will said, even though he knew that was a terrible answer.

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, now would it?” Hannibal took another step closer, then another. Will had backed all the way up, now, nowhere else to go unless he learned how to melt through walls in the next thirty seconds. “Tell me, Will, have you disregarded all of my instructions today?”

Will blushed, a scowl crossing his face. “You know I haven’t.” He’d struggled with the damn plug for over an hour now. Hannibal could probably smell the arousal on him. It was one of his more frustrating talents. 

“Do I? I find myself ill-inclined to trust anything that comes out of your mouth right now.” Hannibal eyed Will speculatively. He was turning a rather lovely shade of red, irritation and embarrassment at war on his features. Hannibal would love to see exactly how red he could get him, if he tried. 

Tapping the desk beside his hip, Hannibal leveled Will with a stern frown. “Over the desk, Will.”

“..._What_?”

“Bend over the desk. I won’t ask again.”

Will went from blushing to absolutely pale. His eyes immediately flicked to the door. Sure, there was no window there but it wasn’t made of anything thicker than polystyrene and balsa wood. And this was the fucking FBI. People could come and go at any moment; someone could walk past, someone could come to the fucking door.

“Someone could -”

“You said no one comes to your office hours, not five minutes ago," Hannibal replied, amused at the panic playing over Will’s face. His arousal was palpable, it wafted from him like the most pleasant perfume and Hannibal could breathe him in forever. “Do as you’re told, Will.”

“Fuck.”

Will felt his pulse pounding in his ears, felt his body move without his express permission as he _went_ and turned and _bent over the fucking desk_. He didn’t bend far, holding himself stiffly over his own goddamn table. He chewed his lip, eyed Hannibal as the man hummed and stepped slowly around him, circling like a predator.

“I said bend, Will,” he reminded softly, watching, pleased, as Will sighed and lowered himself to his elbows. Hannibal drew a hand through Will’s hair and tugged when he tried to look over his shoulder to the door again. “Belt off.”

“No.”

“Will.”

“What if someone -”

“I locked the door.”

Will swallowed, kept his eyes on Hannibal in a valiant attempt to get him to change his mind… hands working with his belt even as he tried to convince himself he was resisting. He pulled the belt free and passed it to Hannibal, throat clicking when he took it and bent it in half in his lovely hands.

“Pants, and underwear,” Hannibal said next, and Will ducked his head this time, unable to keep looking.

“Why?”

“So I can gauge the level of punishment you deserve for being such a bad boy,” Hannibal replied, simple as anything. “For lying to me, for arguing with me, for _disobeying_ me.”

Will found the words were simultaneously heated and unpleasant. They brought that same sense of security and arousal that Hannibal’s games and orders brought, but the idea of disobedience, _disappointment_, sat heavy and sick in Will’s stomach. 

Will kept himself bent over as he obeyed, easing his pants and underwear down to his knees. He stopped there, bracing himself on his elbows again, staring down at the desktop. It should have been humiliating. It was humiliating. But the pleased hum Hannibal made was anything but. Hannibal’s fingers tapped lightly at the plug’s base, sending small little jolts through Will’s body. Will bit down any sounds that threatened to spill over, hands clenching into fists on the desk. 

“I see you haven’t _entirely_ misbehaved today.” Without warning, Hannibal gave the plug a sharp tug, pulling a cry from Will that he couldn’t entirely muffle. There was too much friction, enough that Will whimpered as Hannibal tapped the plug back into place.

The leather of the belt passed gently over Will’s ass, just a hint of a warning, before Hannibal set the belt on the desk. He laid it still folded over, just in front of Will’s gaze. The message was clear, and Will shivered. He had no idea why he was hard. 

Hannibal stepped up behind him, his thighs against the back of Will’s, and set his hands on either side of Will’s elbows on the desk, effectively boxing him in. Will swallowed. This, surprisingly, had a calming effect on him rather than making him panic; this was how Hannibal pressed up to him in bed, how he stood behind Will in the kitchen when Will sleepily made breakfast if Hannibal stayed the night.

This was reassurance.

“How does it feel?”

The words broke Will of his reverie, and for a moment he had to remember where he was and why he was bent over half-dressed in his own office.

“The plug,” Hannibal clarified, turning his head against Will’s curls.

“Distracting,” Will admitted, carefully arching his neck to give Hannibal better access. “Heavy. Filling.”

“Something to keep you sated in between the times we get to see each other, then,” Hannibal murmured, and Will snorted, ducking his head. Hannibal stood over him a moment more before stepping back, a hand immediately landing to the base of Will’s neck when he tried to rise and follow him.

“There is still the matter of lying, Will,” Hannibal said, drawing his hand down Will’s spine until his fingers were teasing the hem of his shirt. “Unacceptable in the best of circumstances, but these…” both hands, now, folding the shirt up against Will’s back, baring him to the room entirely. “What’s to be done about that?”

“You already know,” Will accused, “You’d already made up your mind when you showed up and I wasn’t here.”

Hannibal’s fingertips found a sensitive spot of skin just below Will’s backside and pinched, nails digging in until Will yelped and pressed his forehead to the wood again. Hannibal’s hand pet gently over the sore spot, less an apology and more a pleased acknowledgement. 

“I had,” Hannibal admitted. In truth, he’d been planning Will’s first punishment far longer than that, musing over it with relish as he sat alone before the fireplace. However, that seemed like a conversation best held when Will was not already trembling with pent up nerves, no doubt building things up to be far worse than Hannibal was going to make them. Though Hannibal was definitely going to be thorough. “I would still like to hear your thoughts.”

“My guess at what you’re planning, or my _opinions_ on it?”

Hannibal bent over Will once more, tugging him back up onto his elbows with a firm hand on his jaw. “Whichever you would like to share,” he said, brushing Will’s hair aside to place a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck.

Will snorted but complied, allowing the reassuring softness Hannibal offered before the inevitable that would follow. He flicked his tongue over his lips and swallowed gently.

“You’re going to spank me,” Will said, smiling at Hannibal’s hum of agreement - or was it approval? - “And you’re going to enjoy it far too much.”

“Coy, Will. As though you won’t enjoy this just as much.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a punishment, would it, Doctor?” Will replied innocently, shivering when Hannibal’s laugh turned into a deep warm purr against his back instead. He turned his head a little, seeking another press of lips, and sighed when Hannibal obliged.

“Clever boy.”

A tug to his hair and Hannibal let Will go a moment, bending to seek something in his bag. Will ducked his head against the desk and tried to hide his smile. He had to admit that beyond the initial and somewhat lingering panic of being publicly humiliated this was ridiculously hot. Trust Hannibal to make something as mundane as missing his office hours so worth his while.

When Hannibal stood again, Will glanced at him, caught no answer in the returned gaze, and arched his back invitingly.

In answer, Hannibal’s fingers caught the end of the plug and slowly pulled it free, relishing the shiver and soft sounds the sensations drew from Will. There was a click of a cap, a moment of meditative silence.

“You have the unending capacity to surprise me, Will,” Hannibal told him calmly, as though they were just in Hannibal’s study taking a nightcap, or in Will’s home on the porch. “I had expected you to misbehave, and yet you’ve also been very, very good for me.”

“A dilemma for the ages,” Will mused back. A sharp slap - not nearly as hard as he knew Hannibal could hit him, quieted the words to a soft whine.

“Indeed. So I find myself in the truly enviable position of being able to punish you and reward you at once.” He bent to kiss against Will’s lower back, and before Will could quip anything in answer, the plug was back, slick, now, and pushed - hard - all the way in. “Do remember, Will, the door is rather thin.” And then Hannibal spanked him again.

Will’s nails dug into his palms, the groan thick in his throat. The smack had jerked the plug perfectly through Will’s prostate, already so sensitive from the time he’d spent with the plug inside him. It moved more smoothly now, no more rough pull to detract from the perfect weight of the metal. 

Hannibal struck him two more times, both on the same cheek, fingertips catching on the base of the plug and forcing it to shift inside Will. Will bit down hard on his lower lip, struggling for silence as Hannibal’s hand came down again, and again, a sharp burn that only added to the taunting pleasure. He had no idea how long this was going to go on. Hannibal hadn’t given him a number. All Will knew was that punishments were, by necessity, unpleasant, even if they were also the type Hannibal expected him to enjoy. 

The next time Hannibal struck him, it was hard enough for Will to raise up onto his toes, his shoes dragging against the cheap carpeting. A whine broke through; Will could taste copper.

Hannibal could see how hard Will was working to be good, to make up for his earlier disobedience. He was most definitely a brat to the core, but he also clearly longed for the security and praise that came with Hannibal’s directions. Hannibal was gentle as he nudged Will back into place, rather than punishing him for the shift. One day, he would teach Will to be still for a punishment, but today he was pleased just to see the effort.

“H-Hannibal!” Will sobbed, his voice cracking as Hannibal struck him a bit harder, bringing out a stronger warmth to properly prepare Will for the belt. “I can’t-” He stopped, clearly uncertain his complaint would be welcome.

Hannibal rubbed soothingly over Will’s reddened backside, teasing lightly at the plug between switching sides. “What can’t you do, Will?”

Humiliation was one of Will’s greatest motivators. Hannibal knew that if he reached between Will’s thighs right now, he would find him hard and dripping, no doubt bringing himself closer to the edge just from the beginnings of a spanking, the plug he’d so disdained, and the trappings of his own brilliant mind. 

Words came slowly, choked out through gritted teeth and frustrated embarrassment. “I can’t… I can’t keep quiet. Not quiet enough.”

A hum, and Hannibal continued to soothe Will’s skin a moment more, waiting for his breathing to settle, for his shaking to turn to trembling once more. In truth, he had no intention of truly getting Will in trouble at work; he didn’t want the bureaucratic nightmare that came with citations and clauses, especially within the FBI. He didn’t want Will to fret over that. He didn’t want to suddenly lower the number of potential bright young minds graduating, either.

Hannibal soothed his hand up to rest against Will’s back as he moved away a little, reaching around to take up the belt from the desk.

“A compromise, perhaps,” he murmured. “Due to extenuating circumstances.”

He leaned over Will so the other could see him, smiled in a way that made Will immediately relax down against the table.

“Open your mouth,” Hannibal instructed, catching Will’s eyes as he obeyed. Gently, he set the belt between his teeth, fingers under his chin to guide Will to bite down. “Just five more. For each you manage to keep quiet, you will get the equivalent with the belt before we’re done.”

Will shuddered, curled his back, made a soft whimpering noise that went right to Hannibal’s cock.

And then he nodded.

Participation in his own punishment. More specifically, an offer to worsen it or curb it entirely, should Will so choose. The opportunity to tell Hannibal exactly what he could and could not deal with.

He had never been in any danger, not here, not with Hannibal looking out for him, and Will felt a trace of guilt that he’d doubted Hannibal in the first place. But then, Hannibal liked him off-kilter and nervous. Hannibal liked to trace a blush with his mouth and say the sort of things that left Will trembling. 

For the first strike, Will bit down on the leather hard enough to leave dents. The only sound to leave his throat was a shuddery breath, muted and choked by the belt. Behind him, Hannibal chuckled, clearly pleased with Will’s choice. “That’s one with the belt,” he said quietly.

Will managed to keep quiet for the second as well, but Hannibal had never let him have anything easy. The third strike was, in Will’s opinion, cheating. Hannibal’s hand came down square over the plug, grinding it hard into Will’s body and forcing a shout from him. The belt muffled it slightly, but Will still dug his hands into the desk, nails scrabbling at cheap fake wood. 

Four was much the same. Will was still primed for oversensitivity, and Hannibal was no longer pulling his blows. Will squeaked and squirmed under Hannibal’s touch, glaring down at the desktop. He’d been determined to be silent through all five, but Hannibal probably would have considered that to be ‘too easy.’

For the fifth strike, though, Will was prepared. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out in a rush as Hannibal’s hand came down hard. Will’s skin was burning, tingling pleasantly, and his thighs were beginning to quiver with arousal and weariness both. He nearly collapsed when Hannibal stepped up behind him, signaling the end of this round. Three with the belt. Three sharp and burning strikes that would hurt and hurt and leave Will barely able to sit, already so hindered by the plug. Will closed his eyes, smiling around the belt in his mouth. 

Hannibal took the time to soothe Will down again, kissing over his spine, hands gentle against his hips as he rubbed circles there, directing Will’s attention from the pain to something else, letting him find grounding before he used the belt.

It had at once fascinated and delighted Hannibal just how quickly Will had taken to impact play in particular. He enjoyed it enough that it was more often than not part of sex for them now, but he could only take so much, meaning it made for a wonderful punishment for minor indiscretions.

Win-win.

He tugged Will’s hair, enough to bring his head up, his eyes on Hannibal, and kissed his cheek, whispering warm praise against his ear. He had done very, very well. Hannibal reached to take the belt from Will’s mouth, careful to allow him to let go on his own, watching as Will flexed his jaw with a sigh. He kissed him then, almost chaste considering what they were doing and where, and nosed against Will when he pulled away.

“Three, then,” he said. Will nodded, smug. “Would you like me to gag you for them?”

Will bit down on his bruised lower lip. After all that, he wasn’t about to start whining just because Hannibal’s _words_ had their way of going all the way down his spine. “We don’t have anything else,” he whispered, nodding towards the damp patch he’d drooled onto the belt. His face was probably damp too, but if Hannibal didn’t care, Will wasn’t going to bother caring. He felt pleasantly light, no more of the embarrassed heaviness that had filled him earlier. 

Hannibal pressed a smile into Will’s cheek. “I’m sure I can think of something, if you ask nicely.”

Nothing could ever be just _given_, of course, but Will found he wasn’t as hesitant as he’d been when Hannibal had first ordered him to bend over the desk. “I want you to gag me. Please,” he added. Will knew what he was like in bed. He had no hope of holding back cries from the belt. 

Hannibal’s warmth disappeared, leaving Will bent over the desk. His hand pressed between Will’s shoulderblades when Will attempted to stand, and then there was a crumpled ball of fabric in front of Will’s face. Will had just enough time to recognize the distinctive paisley fabric of Hannibal’s expensive silk tie, before long fingers gently eased Will’s jaw open. Hannibal showed far more care for Will than the tie; his fingers were gentle over Will’s skin even as he stuffed the entirety of the tie between Will’s lips, stretching his mouth open. 

It was going to be _ruined_. One of Hannibal’s perfectly pressed and cared for ties, and it was going to be crumpled up and soaked through with Will’s spit. And Hannibal didn’t care. Will pressed his face into Hannibal’s palm and moaned, muffled thoroughly by the fabric.

“Good boy,” Hannibal whispered, deliberately allowing the belt to drag over the desk before gently tapping it against his thigh. Will was lovely beneath him, bent over, ass pink and filled with a heavy plug, and his mouth stuffed with Hannibal’s tie.

He might never wear it again, but he would certainly keep it.

He turned his wrist carefully, letting the weight of the belt help him gauge how hard to strike, and stepped back towards the door a bit to allow himself space for a decent swing.

And then…

Two people, perhaps three, hardly making a racket but certainly making noise as they entered the hallway behind the locked door. Hannibal heard them, he was sure Will hadn’t yet. He considered, for a split second, landing his first strike anyway but decided against that particular cruelty today. He wanted Will’s enjoyment, first and foremost, even during a punishment. He did not want Will in a panic.

So as the footsteps neared, Hannibal approached the man over the desk again, and settled himself over him, heavy and warm.

“Stay just as you are,” he breathed, turning his face against Will’s cheek when the other made a soft sound of protest. “I would rather our show remained exclusive. We’ll let them pass, none the wiser, content to go about their day as though their professor isn’t bent over his desk during office hours, taking a well-earned spanking”

Will shivered, made a helpless noise that drowned in the folds of the tie between his lips. Now, he could hear the footsteps too, and the conversation that came with it. Girls, two or three, chatting about class and assignments and trivial things.

Hannibal didn’t move from Will, Will barely breathed.

“Could you imagine,” Hannibal continued after a moment, words barely audible, as the group stopped several doors away to continue their conversation. “Their strict and scary Professor Will Graham, bending so willingly to take a punishment for missing his own office hours. What filthy rumours would spread, and at what speed, dear Will? I don’t suppose they would take your tone with the weight you mean it, after that, would they? Imagining you trussed up, stuffed ass, stuffed mouth, cock thick and hot between your thighs as you beg me for the belt, hmm?”

Beyond the door, the girls moved on, voices and steps growing farther and farther away. Hannibal turned his head to kiss Will’s blush. “Food for thought,” he added softly.

Will trembled beneath Hannibal, weighed down as thoroughly as he was when they spent the night together. It was nearly impossible to sleep now without Hannibal’s heavy body pressing him into the bed, and the combination of that comfort with humiliation and arousal made Will almost dizzy.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hall was silent. Hannibal shifted, his mouth pressed against the curve of Will’s ear. “You’ve done very well for me today. I know how difficult this has been for you. If you’d like, we can call it here, finish up later in the privacy of my home.”

Neither of them actually wanted Will to get fired, as arousing as this adventure had been. Still, Will found himself more offended than relieved. He had earned his strikes, and he was going to have them. Preferably now, while he was already primed and warmed up. 

Unable to protest verbally, Will shook his head with a muffled whine of complaint. Hannibal’s smile was devilishly pleased. Will had the feeling he’d opened himself up to a lot more public adventures with that bit of confidence.

“Very well.” Another kiss, this time to the corner of Will’s parted lips, and then Hannibal stood, adjusting Will back into the propped-up position he preferred.

“Hips up,” he told him, unnecessary but amusing to watch Will wriggle to adjust himself. “Hold just like that for me, Will.”

Hannibal didn’t warn him before he belted him the first time. The sound probably carried beyond the door but there was no one to hear it there. Immediately, the stripe glowed red against Will’s punished skin and he keened, arms stretching out before him to grasp the edge of the desk and hold on.

The second had him sobbing, entire body shaking with pleasure and pain, mind humming with static like a badly tuned TV. He needed this. He needed it to stay sane. His cock was so hard his stomach hurt. He was so close, so sensitive.

He heard Hannibal snap the belt between his hands, groaned when it unraveled and the end fell to the floor, a deliberate yet only warning Will got that the last stripe would _hurt._

When it came, Will’s vision went white for a moment. He felt euphoric. Then his throat was aching with the pained sounds he cried against the tie and he wasn’t sure where he was anymore.

“Remarkable thing,” Hannibal whispered, bending to kiss the flesh he’d so brutally hurt before coming around the desk to see Will’s face properly. “Beautiful boy, you did so well for me.”

Hannibal was out of focus, blurry through a layer of salt water. He wiped gently at Will’s face with a handkerchief, carefully prying Will’s fingers away from the edge of the desk. He checked Will’s palms next, kissing over half-moon indentations that had not managed to break skin.

Will didn’t feel like he was truly there. He was aware of two things, the throbbing burn of pain and the heady warmth of arousal. For a minute he thought, almost ridiculously, that if Hannibal would just hit him one more time he could probably come from that alone. 

When Hannibal came around to help Will up, Will clung to him, moaning softly as the plug shifted its weight inside of him. “Not yet,” Hannibal told him, bending to help Will back into his pants. “You’ve still got office hours. Open for me.”

Will stretched his jaw open just a bit wider for Hannibal to work the silk tie out. He didn’t know how Hannibal expected him to get through _office hours_ when he didn’t even have the energy to resist this level of coddling. 

Hannibal wiped at Will’s face once more, patting the corners of his mouth dry and smiling at the dirty look Will was giving him. “Tonight,” he promised, “If you can finish up here and be good for me.”

“I’m not going to be able to sit like this,” Will protested, shifting uncomfortably. Between the fire burned into his skin and the plug he was clearly meant to keep inside him, he’d be lucky if he sat the rest of the week. 

“Then I suppose you shall have to grade papers standing.”

Hannibal was utterly immune to the glare Will leveled him with, an expression that regularly struck terror into his students. He was still smiling when he left, abandoning Will to another hour or so of nothing but his own thoughts.

Round and round the same few went: _I just got spanked in the goddamn FBI for missing my office hours. By my partner. Because he decided to not only make me lunch, but buy me a butt plug and make me wear it today._

It took a good while for the flush in Will’s cheeks to settle to something he could explain away as a headache or too-warm office if need be. He did spend the rest of his office hours grading papers standing up, papers flat on the desk that not an hour before Will had been whimpering against. God, if only they knew…

_Food for thought._

Hannibal’s tie was still on his desk, too, still crumpled, edges damp where Will had soaked it with his spit. Just looking at it made Will shiver pleasantly. It was less to do with the fact that it had gagged him, and more to do with the sacrifice Hannibal had made offering it. He had done it without thought, when Will _asked him to_. Just like he made Will dinner, when he stayed at Wolf Trap. Just like he made Will coffee, when Will was in Baltimore. Just like he nuzzled him and kissed him and praised him through every kink they’d so far played with.

Those thoughts alone warmed Will more than he could express.

He took the tie with him when he left the building, pushed into his pants pocket.

It had become a routine for them, now, that on Mondays and Tuesdays, Will stayed the night with Hannibal, and the rest of the week Hannibal spent with Will. Cases and conferences aside, of course. This allowed them to enjoy heavier scenes on Mondays, time enough on Tuesday for Will to recover, and another evening of company where he didn’t have to drive far to get home. 

They alternated weekends.

Now, Will could barely drive, teeth gritted and knuckles white against the wheel as he made his way as carefully as possible to Hannibal’s house and parked in the drive.

He took a moment to collect himself, didn’t bother collecting his bag as he locked the car and damn near ran up the steps to the door to knock.

Hannibal opened it with a smile, and Will pressed himself up to kiss him before he could say anything at all.

Hannibal had enjoyed a pleasant afternoon, his mind on the beautiful mess he’d made of Will. He was not at all surprised to find Will wrecked and needy in the doorway, clinging to Hannibal’s lapels as they kissed. Hannibal indulged him, pulling Will into the entryway so he could close the door and press Will up against it. 

Will arched up against Hannibal, whining when Hannibal slotted their hips together and forced his body back against the door. Three strikes was not the most Will could take with the belt, but he’d no doubt been focused on the marks since Hannibal left him. Will’s own thoughts were sometimes the greatest tool Hannibal had at his disposal. 

“Have you behaved since I left you?” Hannibal whispered against Will’s lips. Will scowled at him, no doubt far beyond teasing at this point. 

“There hasn’t been enough time to get into trouble since I saw you.”

“Will, I have no doubt that you would find some mischief to get up to, were you so inclined.”

Will eyed him speculatively. “Well,” he finally said, “luckily, I had much more important things on my mind. Like how you _left me there_.” He leaned up, nipping at Hannibal’s lower lip before surging up into a proper, much deeper kiss. 

“I missed you,” Hannibal countered fondly, slipping his fingers into Will’s curls to tug them, to arch his head back and kiss his throat. “Dining room,” he murmured, tracing the line of Will’s Adam’s apple with the tip of his nose. “Go.”

“No.”

“It really is,” Hannibal whispered, his own voice growing unsteady, “truly worth your while to obey me in this, Will.”

Will considered him, his inner brat prepared to throw an actual tantrum if need be, but another part of him, the part that had draped himself so beautifully over the chairs in Hannibal’s office on their second appointment, made him reconsider. He pushed up on his toes into another nipping kiss, and moved away, shrugging his jacket off as he went and hanging it on the bannister of the stairs as he passed - the brat within not quite tamed just yet.

Will knew Hannibal was following him, he’d gotten as used to reading Hannibal and his whims as Hannibal read him. There may be teasing but not a lot; the man was far from composed himself and Will knew, he knew, that while he’d had to struggle for hours aroused today, so had the doctor.

By choice.

For Will.

Will made it to the head of the table and turned, finding Hannibal so close they nearly collided, and he snorted a laugh as the other wrapped his arms around Will’s middle and kissed his cheek. Hannibal’s hands moved to work open Will’s belt, the button on his pants, the fly. He sunk to his knees to draw the clothing from him to a messy pile on the floor before meeting Will face to face again, his smile predatory.

“On the table,”

Will sucked in a breath. Hannibal had been planning this, sitting alone and thinking to himself about all the things he wanted to do with Will. _To_ Will. Any desire Will had left in him to argue or banter or _disobey_ fled.

It was difficult for him to climb onto the table, between the lines from the belt and the inconvenient handle for the plug. Will had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t meant for everyday use, and that Hannibal had just wanted to watch him struggle with it. Will eased himself back carefully, assisted by Hannibal’s hands on his hips, hefting him effortlessly into place. 

This was Hannibal’s dining room table, the linchpin of his entire life. Will had eaten dozens of meals at this table. So had countless other people; Will had yet to have a dinner party inflicted upon him, but he’d heard plenty about them. This was the place that most reflected Hannibal, even moreso than the kitchen itself, and Will could not think of anything more intimate than laying himself back on it, spreading his thighs for Hannibal’s heated gaze.

Hannibal’s hands ran down the inside of Will’s thighs, spreading them just a bit wider to give himself more access. The lube from earlier had gone tacky, but as Hannibal hooked his fingers around the plug’s handle, he pulled another bottle from somewhere out of Will’s line of sight. 

“Please tell me you’re going to use that to finally fuck me,” Will pleaded, biting down on his lip as Hannibal worked the plug out in slow, careful twists.

“In a manner of speaking,” Hannibal said, drizzling a fresh layer of lube over the warm metal.

“That manner better be literal,” Will told him, and his tone was as petulant as it was needy. He really didn’t think he could hold on much more without coming, with the kind of day he’d had. And as much as he enjoyed playing up, he truly disliked disappointing Hannibal.

The doctor laughed quietly, bent to kiss against Will’s thigh and looked up the length of his body to meet Will’s eyes.

“Come,” he said, “whenever you wish. That, you have more than deserved today.”

Will shivered, just the _tone_ the _word_ the entire command of it all. The permission was liberating, now it was just his own willpower and the limits of his body holding him back; no disappointments, no failure.

Will wanted to say something else, wanted to encourage him, to snark at him, to tease him, but he could hardly fucking breathe when Hannibal pushed the plug back into him, deep and deliberate, and also took Will’s cock into his mouth with a hum.

God.

_God_ it felt so fucking good.

And here, Will had no need to hold his pleasure. Here, his voice rang loud through the room and out into the empty corridors. He arched up, welcoming both the depth of the plug and the heat around him and rutted, shameless, for Hannibal to see.

The plug that had been a constant frustration was now perfectly shaped, curved to drag against Will’s prostate with every expert twist of Hannibal’s hand. Fifteen minutes ago Will had never hated anything more; now he was pleading, begging Hannibal for more, please more, please don’t stop.

Will was barely aware of his surroundings, his entire existence narrowing down to the heat of Hannibal’s mouth around him. He twined his fingers together above his head to protect Hannibal’s beautiful table from the desperate scrape of his nails, and dug his heels into Hannibal’s back. If Will’s needy surges and the way his legs clung were hurting him, Hannibal made no mention of it. He was in constant motion, following the roll of Will’s hips with his mouth and his hand, fucking Will through the sparks and burning warmth. 

Will forgot the painful stripes rubbing against the table, forgot the soreness that had lingered around his entrance as Hannibal pulled out the plug. He was entirely sensation, twisting and rolling and wave after wave of need. He wanted, he wanted…

Hannibal reached under Will and drew his nails sharply down the curve of his ass, through the bruising marks the belt had left. Sharp, sudden, a fresh burst of pain where everything else had gone dull. Will’s voice broke on what was almost a scream, was certainly louder than he’d meant to be, and he shattered, falling over the cliff’s edge Hannibal had dangled him from, coming and coming in electric pulses of pleasure that seemed unending. Hannibal drew it out for him, pressing the plug deep and grinding it into Will’s body, swallowing down every drop Will had to give him, until Will’s thighs started to tense and he pushed feebly at Hannibal’s head.

Hannibal pulled away with a very satisfied sound, and carefully took the plug away to set aside, helping settle Will’s legs over the edge of the table so he could catch his breath and relax back into himself. He took his time kissing softly over every inch of skin he could reach, over the tops of Will’s thighs, to his navel, over his sensitive cock that he didn’t torment beyond a delicate lick just to the head to feel Will squirm.

In his own way, Hannibal devoured him. He ate up everything Will was, everything Will gave to him, and relished it. Hannibal’s palette had quickly grown attuned to Will in particular, to the way he smelled when tired, aroused, annoyed, exhausted, to the way he tasted when Hannibal took him into his mouth for a lazy morning blowjob or when he hiked Will’s legs up around his shoulders and ate him out until Will was cursing his name and whimpering.

He was perfection.

“Bed?” Hannibal asked after a while, watching Will blink sleepily up at the ceiling before raising his head to duck his chin against his chest and fix Hannibal with a glare.

“No,” Will told him, and that tone was back, that petulant and proud thing that demanded Hannibal never put cream on his bruises after a beating. “No, you will fuck me right here and right fucking now. I’ve been aching for you all goddamn day.”

Hannibal grinned, pressing his teeth to the sensitive skin beneath Will’s knee before pulling away and bringing his hands down to work his own cock free, head back with a pleased, rough sound as he forced himself to hold back just a moment more.

Will was spread before him like a feast. Half dressed, fucked out, debauched and stunning. The next time they had dinner at the table, he would watch Will particularly closely, knowing his mind would be reliving this, taking as much pleasure in it as Hannibal.

Hannibal pulled out his chair, sat down at the table as though his lover wasn’t spread wide and aching before him, and deliberately pushed the chair back to give Will room to move.

“Come here, then,” he coaxed, watching as Will pushed himself up on his elbows, then up on his arms, and then off the table entirely with a wince before setting his knees on either side of Hannibal’s legs and leaning in to kiss him.

He hardly needed to guide Will down, just enough to draw the head of his cock over Will’s hole before letting the man sink down at his own pace. Neither could hold back the groans of pleasure at the feeling, and Hannibal turned to nuzzle his face against Will’s neck as he held him.

Will draped his arms over Hannibal’s shoulders, gripping tight to the back of the chair. He was often sweeter after orgasm, more affectionate, more willing to be held. He melted into Hannibal’s arms around him, Hannibal’s mouth against his collarbone. Hannibal fit much deeper than the plug, filling Will enough that he squirmed in place, panting against Hannibal’s shoulder as he struggled to adjust. Like this, they could work at Will’s pace, allowing him to take only what he could handle.

Oh, but Will did love a challenge. So far he’d strived to meet every expectation Hannibal had set for him, regardless of misgivings. It was not the first time Hannibal had fucked him when he was already open and sensitive, and Will rose slowly, thighs trembling, raising himself until Hannibal was nearly out of him and then dropping back down with a high, thready noise that Hannibal would relish. Hannibal let him work himself that way, slow motions that grew slighter with each second as Will’s pleasure-weak body refused to keep holding him up. 

Hannibal took pity on him, his hands sliding down Will’s back, detouring to scrape nails gently over his heated skin and draw a pleased sigh from him. He gripped Will’s hips, guiding him up and rolling his own hips into the next thrust. 

It had to hurt, the slow drag of Hannibal’s cock over Will’s swollen and abused prostate, but Hannibal found that Will loved that moment, just after his orgasm, when Hannibal pushed him past what he could take and then pushed a little further. His soft little whimpers were more pleasure than pain, and Hannibal had no doubt that if they’d met as younger men, Will would have been a force to be reckoned with. He already was, as-is.

As Hannibal guided Will to move, he wrapped his arms up under Will’s and over his shoulders, mouthing against the shirt he still wore, nuzzling the center of his chest.

It was slow, intimate; a lazy sort of lovemaking that would leave them both entirely exhausted and sated. Will’s fingers found Hannibal’s hair, grasping the sweaty strands, tugging them gently. He tilted his head back when Hannibal’s hands mirrored the action, and bit his lip.

“Hurts,” he admitted. His body was over-sensitive, every nerve wired and attuned to even the slightest shift of air around him. Hannibal pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to the center of Will’s throat and held his shoulders a little tighter before thrusting up hard into Will.

A whimper, entirely helpless, and Will clung to Hannibal like a child. Holding on, tensing his muscles to help bring Hannibal over, to let him take his own pleasure after giving Will so much he could barely see. It didn’t take long, Hannibal’s patience enviable but not infinite, and when he came it was with a groan against Will’s shoulder, his body shuddering with the release.

Large hands grasped Will’s hips and moved him just enough for Hannibal to slip free before welcoming Will to settle against him, heavy and exhausted. Hannibal’s hands moved meditatively over Will’s back, drawing up his spine, down his sides, massaging the back of his neck, over and over.

“I think I’ve made a mess of you,” Hannibal admitted, smiling wide when Will answered with a snort.

“If that wasn’t your plan from the very beginning, you wouldn’t have hidden a metal plug in my bag. Or you would have at least packed some lube. You’ve been taking me apart in tiny increments since this morning.” Will sighed, tucking his head against Hannibal’s shoulder and his face against his throat. He’d need to move soon, but right now their shared warmth was enough, comfort after a long day. 

“You submitted to it beautifully,” Hannibal told him, “Even when you were uncertain. I was very impressed with you.”

Will hid a smile against Hannibal’s skin. Hannibal’s praise was never given without merit, and though Will had earned it plenty of times over the past few months, it never ceased to please him. There was no small amount of pride in being able to impress a man as put-together and well-bred as Hannibal. “If you’re the one who’s made the mess, shouldn’t you also be the one to clean it?” Will finally asked. 

“Always seeking reasons to be carried,” Hannibal chided, with no real displeasure. 

“I said nothing about being carried, but now that you mention it…”

“You can get to the bathroom on your own power you dreadful thing, but I’ll wash your hair for you in the bath.”

“Such sacrifices you make for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The List is an ongoing set of timestamps for this verse, and while chapters 1-4 sit between Tricking Myself Nice and Two Ways to Skin Tonight, the others that come more erratically won't be at a particular time (unless we mention so, to save spoilers). So while _this_ set might be over right now, from next week we're starting Two Ways and we are SO EXCITED FOR IT


	5. Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The rules are simple,” He said, running his hand gently down Will’s chest, “If you pass out, you lose. If you come, you lose. If you lose, you wear my cage for a month. No arguments, no complaints. Would you like to choose how we begin?”_
> 
> Our boys play hard. Based off of a sentence in chapter 6 of Two Ways to Skin Tonight but you don't have to have read that to be able to read this.

Hannibal loved his new kitchen. Its place on the second floor allowed him a relative amount of privacy, while the railing that took the place of a fourth wall allowed him to look down into the living area, keeping an eye on any guests they may have been entertaining. Or just the dogs, who were well trained but occasionally mischievous. 

Today, the railing took on an entirely different purpose. Hannibal tugged once at the chain he’d run from the railing down into the living room, enjoying Will’s choked gasp. 

He had Will naked and up on his toes, the chain tugging his collar tight enough to keep him there, lest he asphyxiate himself. Will’s arms were bound behind his back, wrist to elbow, so tight that it forced his chest forward. He was already beginning to tremble from the precarious position.

Hannibal had a bag of toys and a good hour before he needed to start dinner. 

“The rules are simple,” He said, running his hand gently down Will’s chest, “If you pass out, you lose. If you come, you lose. If you lose, you wear my cage for a month. No arguments, no complaints. Would you like to choose how we begin?”

Will whined quietly but didn't otherwise respond for a moment. He cast his eyes up the chain to where it held him tethered and tried to ease his breathing. In any other situation, he would panic. With any other man, he would worry.

But he would not be here with any other man.

He was here with Hannibal and he trusted the man with his life.

Fittingly.

He licked his lips.

"Pain, please." He said. Because pain kept him awake, kept him focused. Because pain kept him steady. Because Hannibal loved seeing his Will in pain.

He stepped nearer, now, and brought his lips to Will's in the softest of kisses. A reassurance, a reminder.

"Safeword?"

Will huffed in displeasure, attempted a glare. "Chesapeake."

"Good boy."

Will's entire body went lax at the words, and he had to immediately push up on his toes again to avoid choking. Hannibal left his line of sight and Will didn't try to turn to seek him.

The lick of the belt indicated his location soon enough. Will groaned, fingers stretching and flexing in their restraints. His cock twitched between his legs.

The belt was both the best and worst way to start. The best, because Will loved it, could possibly come from just that and a slow grind against the bed, on a good day. The worst, because it normally sent Will up onto his toes, and there was nowhere else to go. He could not shift so much as an inch in any direction, bound as he was, and the jerk of his body at the next stripe had him gasping, straining at the collar. 

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Hannibal said. This was worse, to have Hannibal’s words in his ears, Hannibal’s ideas adding fantasy to the pain. “I’ve a number of new things to try, depending on how long you last for me.” He dragged the folded end of the belt down Will’s back, over his wrists, and then smacked it hard against his ass. Will closed his eyes and breathed harshly through his nose. 

“I’ve considered the arch of your feet.” This time, the belt slid down the back of his thigh, a tease, before Hannibal chose to strike the other thigh instead. “I’ve considered how long I could beat you there before you could no longer walk, trapped in my bed until the pain faded.”

Immediately, instinctively, Will dropped. His heels hit the ground, as if somehow that would protect his feet, as if Hannibal could not merely lift Will’s ankle if he so chose and beat him anyway. The effect was immediate; the collar tightened around Will’s throat, sealed his airways so thoroughly that he panicked, and nearly forgot how to make it stop. He was back on his toes in seconds, panting despite the brief time. 

Hannibal’s laugh was warm, tickled against Will’s skin even when they weren’t touching. The next pink mark was left across his shoulders, tensing them further before they relaxed in trembling ease. Another to his thigh. Another. Will lost himself in the rhythm of it, the shattering sound of impact that made it sound much worse than the sensation that followed.

Will’s eyes were hooding, his lips parted to draw in air and push forth moans, again and again.

In their home, he needn’t keep his voice down. They were alone for a good half a mile in every direction. Will was entirely at the mercy of the man behind him and the thought lengthened his cock further. He cried out, sharp and loud, when the belt next crossed over a welt Hannibal had already left.

“More,” he pleaded, toes splayed on the floor beneath him to keep his balance when he felt his head spinning.

“More?”

“More please,” Will whispered, crying out louder when Hannibal obliged him, several cruel lashings in quick succession, until Will was having trouble catching his breath without the collar’s constriction. And whined, low and long, and grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut so they weren’t following the long - impossibly long - chain to where it held him tethered.

There was a thorough, burning ache left behind when Hannibal stopped, leaving Will hazy and pleased. His cock was hard, damp at the head. Hannibal stepped in front of him to admire it, teasing gentle fingertips over the glans. Will squirmed and found even that small motion was severely hindered by the chain. Hannibal’s hand wrapped around the base of Will’s cock, drawing up and down in slow, taunting strokes. Will bit down hard on his lip, trembling. 

“Please,” Will gasped when Hannibal showed no signs of either stopping or speeding up. 

“Please what, Will? I can’t assist you if you don’t ask for what you need.” Hannibal’s smug smile was almost too much. Will struggled to keep a glare off his face. The balls of his feet were already sore, and an ache was building slowly in his calves. 

“Please, more pain.” Hannibal’s grip tightened, stroking Will the exact way he preferred to be touched. Will whined. 

“I told you to choose how we started, Will. I did not say you could dictate the rest of the game.”

A frustrated snarl drew Will’s lips back and he looked helplessly at Hannibal. “That’s cheating,” he mumbled, casting his eyes in a quick flick down to where Hannibal was systematically undoing him with his clever hands. “You can’t just -”

“Can’t I?”

Hannibal’s smile would be pleasant, in any other situation. Here it was almost predatory. Will forced himself to meet his eyes and hold them as Hannibal continued to stroke, deliberate and careful, and Will felt himself start to tremble with the pressure his body was under. With a soft sound he closed his eyes, resigned, and only then did Hannibal let him go.

“Good boy.”

Will’s sob very nearly came with tears.

“Hannibal -”

Soft fingers curled in Will’s hair, not tugging, not moving him in any way that would hurt him to breathe. Just holding him, grounding him, until Will parted his lips on another soft whimper and jerked his head in a nod.

He was floating, he could feel it. Reality grew hazy at the edges and Will’s body felt everything as though it were amplified; the good, the bad, the mundane. His pulse Will was sure he could feel to the tips of every hair on his body, his breathing felt like an engine powered by steam.

He didn’t know how long he waited, eyes half open and mind slowing down like an old walkman running out of battery. What Hannibal gave him next  _ was _ pain, but it wasn’t the belt.

It was a sharp and very unwelcome sting to the sole of Will’s foot. He immediately dropped himself to protect it, choking in surprise and displeasure, before the desire to breathe won out and he arched up onto his toes again.

Will wanted to turn, to see what Hannibal had decided to torture him with. It felt long, thin, and then it only felt like  _ pain _ . Hannibal was solely fixated on the right foot, tenderizing it with quick, rapid strikes. Will bore it for a moment that felt like an eternity, and then Hannibal shifted his aim a little, against the stretched and exposed arch of Will’s foot. Will yelped, shaking his head, and when that, predictably, failed to earn him mercy, he attempted to jerk his foot out of range.

Will was unable to drop to the floor, but he could lift his foot, press the bottom against his calf, shaking precariously on a single foot. Will’s balance held out for only a second before he was forced to put his foot down again, but Hannibal punished him for it anyway. The thin rod he’d been using on Will’s feet struck Will’s backside instead, harsh and bruising over the welts already left behind. 

“You’re usually much more obedient than this,” Hannibal mused, hefting Will’s foot back up with a tight grip on his ankle. He struck the entire bottom of his foot now, in a relentless back and forth that had tears brimming in Will’s eyes. “I think we may finally have found a punishment that will actually deter you, Will.”

“Please, Sir,” Will gasped. His other calf gave out, forcing him flat footed. Will strained against the collar with a choked sob. Hannibal left him to it, digging his thumbs into Will’s captured foot to test the sensitivity even as Will struggled for air.

He let go and stood in one smooth movement when Will’s breathing hitched dangerously wet, and guided Will back against him for balance as he returned to his toes, trembling. Hannibal supported him with his weight, with a gentle stroking over Will’s stomach, until the other nodded, almost imperceptible, and Hannibal stepped slowly back to let him go.

Will had a second of space before the cane burned a line over the sole of his foot again and Will yelped, jerking hard against the chain.

“Sir,  _ please _ \- I can’t, I -”

“What can’t you do, Will?”

“Breathe, I can’t breathe,” Will bit his lip and forced his heart to slow down, forced his lungs to actually absorb the air he was taking in. His body sang with pain, the kind he loved warming his skin, and this new pain, too sharp, too unwelcome, against just one foot. He could barely keep his balance, now, he didn’t know what he would do if Hannibal decided to punish the other one.

Hannibal let Will catch his breath here, too, close enough to guide should he need, but far enough away that Will was allowed the space to gather himself. He was so proud of him, his beautiful, bratty, petulant Will. Will, who always ceded his control in their games, who trusted Hannibal to guide him, even if he was hysterical from pain and pleasure.

His, entirely.

When Will calmed somewhat, Hannibal set just the tip of the cane to the arch of Will’s foot, not striking, just pressing there like a warning.

“You are doing so well, dear boy,” he murmured, drawing the implement up to Will’s heel, back down until it pressed where the ball of Will’s foot met the floor. “But you know the price of disobedience.”

Will whimpered, hands tensing before splaying out and seeking for Hannibal. He folded his fingers with Will’s own, let him cling for as long as he needed.

“Yes, sir.”

Hannibal stepped up against him once more, his chest to Will’s shoulders. “Hold it up. You will take three more for me, without complaint and I will consider the punishment fulfilled.”

Will’s face was damp. He could feel the tightness of salt water drying against his cheeks. He’d be a sight when this was all done, reds and purples everywhere. He knew there’d be a circular bruise around his throat, knew Hannibal would likely set his hand to it later in their bed. Will closed his eyes, holding on to that thought, the hope of reward rather than punishment. Or perhaps he would let himself fail, would welcome the cage and let Hannibal test his limits. Either way, he was close. Hannibal would need to start dinner soon, and he wouldn’t leave Will to hang like this by himself. He just needed to bear it a little longer.

Will wavered as he lifted his foot. No doubt there was a bath in his future, warm hands over the cramps beginning in his calves. Three more, he could handle three more, and then there would be something different. 

He was still hard. He was trying not to think about what that said about him. 

Hannibal didn’t hold him steady this time. He struck up towards the heel first, where he’d begun. Will drew in a ragged breath and stayed still. The second strike, over his arch, nearly undid him; Will had to set his foot down and find his balance before he could lift it again. Hannibal praised him, his hand warm between Will’s shoulder blades as he hit him one more time, right where Will’s feet would press into the carpet.

“There we go. Down.”

Will lowered his foot slowly, whimpering in pain as he settled weight onto the welts. He could not imagine being caned over both feet. He was almost tempted to find out. 

Hannibal’s hand trailed down, fingernails grazing light against the welts his belt had left behind. “Just one more task, Will, and then you can be done. Can you be good for me?”

“Yessir.” It came out slightly slurred, all one word. Will wouldn’t make it through much more, but so long as his balance held, Hannibal had no qualms about pushing him a little further. The plug he’d picked was small, but curved. It would press right up against Will’s prostate, teasing and tormenting. With how hard Will was, there was a fair chance Hannibal would win this game. Coating the plug thoroughly, Hannibal held Will steady with a hand on his hip, coaxing him to open up in a position that did not allow for much stretch.

Will let Hannibal guide him, eyes slipping closed more often than they stayed open. He wasn’t so unbalanced yet as to fear of his safety, and even if he were, he knew Hannibal would catch him, would stop him hurting himself. That kind of trust was beyond freeing.

Will gasped as the plug was pressed in, found his prostate. He clenched around it experimentally, wondering if he could guess which of their toys it was by feel alone, and groaned when he did.

“Cheating,” he whispered again, smiling lazily when he felt Hannibal’s own grin press between his shoulders.

“And yet, you will take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Will sighed, tilting his head back just a little, just enough to feel Hannibal there, before resuming a position he could hold and breathe in. He tried not to respond when Hannibal flicked the switch to the lowest setting and the pulses of the little toy vibrated through to Will’s bones. He tried. But his moan pulled aching and long, and his shuddering whimper after drew a pleased sigh from Hannibal.

“Stay right there for me,” he told Will. “Just as you are.”

When he moved, he didn’t move far. He wouldn’t abandon Will in such a precarious position, not in play, not ever. He drew up a comfortable chair and sat down as he took up his sketchbook, close enough to be near if Will needed his help, far enough that he could properly see him.

He was stunning; stretched taut, marks already bruising and darkening over his thighs and ass, the plug peeking through between his cheeks in the most fetching way. Hannibal knew Will could sense where he was, he didn’t ask him to open his eyes or look. Will was floating, far-enough gone that he was down to monosyllabic utterances outside of his moans of pleasure.

Just where he should be.

They had a variety of toys at their disposal, but this one was the cruelest. Even it’s lowest setting was distracting, almost overwhelmingly so. Will knew from experience that he  _ could _ come from this, given the right circumstances.

And oh, these were definitely the right circumstances. Fierce heat in his body, bound too tight to fight or resist. Aching and holding himself still for Hannibal’s pleasure. He didn’t care anymore if he won or lost.

Will let go.

There was noise, somewhere, possibly from him. There was pain. There was safety, security. Will forgot everything but this, everything but Hannibal. He let the steady vibrations carry him, let the pleasure roll through him in constant waves. 

Hannibal’s phone vibrated in his pocket as his alarm went off. He silenced it immediately, setting his sketchbook aside. Will had done beautifully, had borne pain and pleasure and fear in equal measures. Hannibal was almost reluctant to let him down, blissful as his features were. 

But, though Will was fond of calling him a cheater, Hannibal always played fair, in these games.

He turned the plug off first, hushing Will when he made a plaintive sound of desperation; despite everything, he hadn’t come from this. Remarkable boy. Next, Hannibal unclipped the chain that held Will tethered, and immediately took his weight when Will sank back against him.

“Will?”

“Hmm.”

“Open your eyes for me,”

Will struggled, but he did, just barely, just enough, and Hannibal set a hand to his cheek and kissed him.

“You are extraordinary,” Hannibal praised him, nuzzling against Will’s face gently, enough for Will to turn into the movement, duck his head to reciprocate. Hannibal guided him back towards the chair he’d occupied and helped him sit down, moving around behind Will to work free the ropes that bound him so tightly.

Will groaned, seeking Hannibal’s hands as soon as his own were free. His fingers were cool but not cold, and he took his time bringing his hands to his front, wincing when bloodflow returned to exhausted limbs.

Hannibal pressed kisses to the backs of his hands, the palms, over the thrumming pulsepoint at his wrist. Will watched him with hazy-eyed pleasure, body lax in the chair as Hannibal massaged sensation back into his arms. Hannibal let him sink, let him lean back, loose limbed and pliant. 

Will’s cock dripped fluid against his thigh. Hannibal lapped it from his skin, drawing a hiss from Will, a restrained need. 

“The game is over, darling,” Hannibal assured him, “You won. Come whenever you like.”

Hannibal’s mouth was hot and tight around him. Will squirmed, afraid to move and forgetting why, forgetting his freedom, forgetting everything but that it felt good, that it was allowed to feel good. His thighs dropped open, Hannibal’s hands seeking tender spaces. Hannibal cupped his balls, rubbed teasingly at his perineum. He let Will fuck his mouth as quick or as languidly as he liked, needy and desperate, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

He came with a whimper and reached immediately for Hannibal, stroking through his hair, tugging it to bring him up his body. Will didn’t care right then, that he needed to rest his body, to let Hannibal care for him and bathe him and warm him, he just needed to kiss him.

And he did. Deep and aching and loving. Hannibal breathed against him and Will breathed him in, filling his own lungs with him.

“I love you,” he whispered, smiling when Hannibal repeated the words. “Are you going to worship me, now?”

Hannibal grinned. “Don’t I always?”

Will hummed, pleased, and stretched out as much as he could, feeling his muscles pull. “Take me, then,” he said, holding out his arms for Hannibal to pick him up, smiling wider when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't get enough? Our [Tumblr](www.stratsandwhiskeywritestuff.tumblr.com/) has kinks, and links, and chapters ahead, oh my!


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